


As the Deer; Or, In Which Cas is Temporarily Female

by WingSongHalo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, Cas is female for like half a chapter in the beginning, Case Fic, Dean behaves like a middle school girl, Kinda, M/M, Reluctant gayness, Sam is a cockblocking moose, Season 9, deer woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1615742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingSongHalo/pseuds/WingSongHalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So you want to jump ship for a minute, use my body to kiss that hot guy, and heal me from my terminal brain condition," the bartender summarized.</p><p>"That is correct," said Castiel.</p><p>"Sign me up," she said, smiling.</p><p>In which Cas sucks at letting Dean go, Dean sucks at being honest, and it's disastrous for both of them. Meanwhile, Sam feels like he's the only one who is actually more concerned with this goddamn case.</p><p>Despite the title, Cas is only female for a little while in the first chapter and then never afterward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a bartender is offered a strange deal and Cas is temporarily female.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing came out of a discussion with blueMinuet about how horrible it would be if the writers put Cas in a female vessel. I said I would only be okay with it if it was temporary, but we both agreed we wouldn't really trust the writers to handle that well. And then the idea for this fic just popped into my head. Somewhere along the line a woman with deer hooves became involved. Whoops.
> 
> Thanks to blueMinuet for being an amazing beta reader, an inspiration for me to keep writing, and the best palewife a girl could ask for. This is for you.
> 
> Thanks as well to ittybittytoostormy and to my boyfriend, who read the story before anyone else and who encouraged me to finish it. Thank you so much. You are both majestic and wonderful and lovely.
> 
> And lastly, thank you to my mother, who does not ship Destiel but still puts up with me. I don't know how she does it, but I wish she would teach me. The putting up with me part, that is, not the not-shipping-Destiel part.
> 
> This takes place sometime in season 9. I make no reference to the Metatron plot, the Abaddon plot, or the Mark of Cain plot, though, so where is your guess. I didn't want to have to retcon anything in if something major happened, so I just decided to leave it all out.
> 
> Also, the title is from a worship song. The lyrics are kind of relevant for Dean and Cas, but mostly I wanted to make a deer reference because I sometimes think I'm funny.

Somewhere between Castiel’s fourth drink and Dean’s third double-entendre directed towards a stranger, Castiel realized for the 6,752nd (ish) time that he was a lousy angel.

I mean, the rebelling against Heaven, slaughtering hundreds of his brethren, and bringing the Leviathan back to Earth were bad enough. He’d done some truly amazingly stupid things in his immortal life (lives? He’d died quite a few times now). But one of the stupidest was falling in love with Dean Winchester.

Castiel, Dean, and Sam were at yet another dive bar in yet another run-down town on yet another hunt (angry nature spirit or pagan god seemed to be the best lead). The angel had been running around with the Winchesters for about three days now. It was the longest consecutive amount of time he’d been around them in quite a while. It was very refreshing in a lot of ways—it was good to have constant backup, to have the assurance of a place to sleep, to have this feeling of solidarity and friendship. Sam was a warm and comforting presence in his life, and Dean…well, what _wasn’t_ Dean to Castiel.

In other ways, however, becoming a temporary hunter was horribly repetitive and monotonous. Every motel began to look the same after a while, Dean played the same 5 cassette tapes over and over in the Impala, the brothers got in the same fights time and again, and every diner seemed to make the same unsatisfying cheeseburgers. And of course, at every location they visited, Castiel had to watch Dean flirting shamelessly with anyone who caught his eye. 

“Another drink for my friend here,” Dean called out as he saw Castiel put down his empty mug. The bartender nodded in his direction with a smile. Castiel watched the hunter give the bartender a once-over. She was athletically built, but with soft curves. Dark hair. Big, dark eyes framed by long, thick lashes. Just Dean’s type, Castiel thought gloomily as she made her way over after fixing the new drink. 

“Anything else?” she asked, setting the mug down in front of Castiel. Even her voice was pleasant. Not too high-pitched or nasal, but not too husky or masculine either.

“Yes,” Dean answered. “How about a drink for you?” He gave her a winning smile, a smile with a mischievous twinkle in those green eyes and a quirk of his mouth, the kind of smile that usually had women falling all over him within minutes. 

To her credit, the bartender merely laughed incredulously. “Not the most original line I’ve heard, but I get off in fifteen. Sound good?”

“You bet,” said Dean, his grin widening. 

“Until then, gotta earn my paycheck,” she excused herself briskly, and moved further down the bar to attend to someone else requesting another round. Castiel pointedly did not watch Dean crane his neck to watch her walk away. He thought to himself for the umpteenth time, with an unpleasant jolt that was no less painful in its familiarity, that Dean would never give him that smile. Or watch him walk away. Castiel felt a bizarre desire to laugh at the thought. He stared into his beer instead. 

“Wasn’t it you who said we need to ‘eliminate distractions’ just, like, a week ago?” Sam said suddenly, leaning forward to see his brother past Castiel. Castiel felt a brief surge of guilt. He was the poster boy for letting things distract him when he had a job to do. “Things” usually meaning “the Winchesters.” Especially Dean. “Call me crazy,” Sam continued, “but you seem more distracted by ogling women than I ever was by that book you yelled at me for reading during my downtime.”

“First of all, who the hell reads _Moby Dick_ for fun?” Dean challenged, mirroring Sam’s position. Castiel leaned backward on his stool a bit so the two could see each other more clearly. “And secondly, we don’t have downtime, Sam.” 

“Apparently we have enough downtime for you to score though,” Sam reasoned, and drained his own mug. He set it down gently. “Well, I’m kind of tired of seeing this routine, so I’m gonna go make myself useful.” His eyes darted over to the pool table. 

“Don’t lose,” Dean advised as Sam made his way in that direction. Privately, Castiel very much agreed with Sam and was about to maybe excuse himself to observe Sam’s hustling skills when Dean elbowed him affectionately. “Guess that leaves more ladies for us,” he said. 

Castiel forced a smile. He wished he had chosen a female vessel when he first came to earth. Perhaps circumstances would be different then. “You are…interested in this woman?” He gave the bartender another glance. She had a very beautiful soul, he observed, only a little resentfully. 

“Well,” Dean said dismissively, “Not really. I mean, sometimes I just gotta keep in practice, you know? I don’t really plan on anything more than a quick drink with her. We should get out of here soon anyway.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, not managing entirely to keep the happiness out of his voice. Unexpectedly, he felt a bit bad for the woman now. The way she kept glancing over at Dean indicated that she really was quite interested in him (that was hardly unusual, though), her soul flaring minutely every time she laid eyes on him. Castiel found himself looking at her soul whenever she glimpsed Dean, curious about her. There was something strange about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on.

It was during one of these glances that she suddenly hissed and pressed a hand to her eyes, shielding them from the light and pressing her fingers into her brow, massaging it. She sat down on a stool behind the bar, rubbing at the back of her neck with one hand now. Her soul was flickering, pain making the edges dim and spark in waves. Castiel suddenly recognized what was so distinctive about her: she was going to die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel waited for Dean to be in the restroom before he made his move: he quietly cleared his throat while the bartender was washing up a glass. She looked up at him expectantly, but odds were she was not expecting what came out of Castiel’s mouth next.

“How long have you known about the aneurysm?” he asked, with no preamble. 

The bartender nearly dropped the glass, her big hazel eyes growing even wider. She fumbled with the glass a bit before deciding to just set it down before it came to any harm. Castiel surmised that he had been correct in his assumption. By his prediction, she only had a few weeks left—the aneurysm was getting progressively worse. She gaped at him a moment. Castiel gazed back steadily. Seeming to decide he wasn’t joking, the woman composed herself and smoothed down her red top (which was unnecessary, because it was already quite smooth). “A while,” she finally answered vaguely. “How could you tell?”

Castiel debated fabricating a story about having known someone with the condition before, but then decided against it. He was, as Sam had once said, terrible at lying. “Do you believe in angels?” he said, folding his hands in front of him and squinting at her. He already knew the answer—he could see in her shining, pure soul that she was a person of great faith— but he felt he should ask anyway.

She smiled, a brief, wry quirk of one corner of her mouth, and pulled a silver cross pendant from under her shirt collar for Castiel to see. “You tell me,” she replied simply. 

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. “Would you believe me if I told you I was one?” he asked.

The bartender stared at him. “No,” she decided. 

Castiel grabbed his empty mug. He extended his arm to the side, and looked back at the bartender to make sure she was watching (and that nobody else was). He then dropped the heavy glass, and it shattered loudly all over the worn wooden floor. The bartender looked at him like he was a maniac. "What the hell did you do that for?!" 

"Watch," he said simply. He flicked his wrist gracefully, and suddenly his glass was whole again, sitting on the bar innocently. 

The bartender—her name was Kelsey, Castiel determined with another close look at her soul—flapped her mouth like a beached fish. "How—how—what are you?" she breathed. 

"I've told you," he responded seriously, his gaze solemn.

She looked at him for a long moment. "Okay, you're an angel," she hissed suddenly, leaning on her elbows over the bar to whisper to him. Someone down the bar looked as if he were trying to get her attention, but it was entirely focused on Castiel now. "So what do you want from me?"

"It is you who has something to gain from me," he explained. When she only blinked at him, he clarified. "I can heal you.” Kelsey's mouth fell open again, but Castiel continued before she could say anything else. “There is, however, something I would ask you in return.” He’d been thinking it through for the past few minutes and was almost certain she would agree if he explained it just right.

She eyed him suspiciously. "And what would that be?" 

He hesitated. What did he have to lose? He'd lost any pride he'd had a long time ago. And this was kind of his only chance if he ever wanted to move on. "I am in love with the man who was sitting next to me," he admitted finally. 

"The tall one?" 

"No, the other one."

She nodded approvingly. "Does he know?"

"No," Castiel sighed. "And even if he did, he is not capable of returning my feelings. I am a genderless being, but for as long as he has known me, I have been in this vessel. This _male_ -bodied vessel." 

"Oh," she said simply, looking at him with something like pity. "Well, I can't blame you for liking him. He seems like a catch." 

"Dean is the most amazing human being I have ever met, and I have lived since the dawn of time," he said resolutely. 

Kelsey blinked at him, taken aback by this pronouncement. "Wow." She finally saw the man trying to get her attention, and excused herself momentarily to go fix a drink. 

"You find Dean desirable, yes?" Castiel asked when she returned, deciding to get to the point.

"Uh, well," she said awkwardly, picking imaginary lint off her top, "I, I didn't—I mean, I didn't know you were interested in—or in _love_ with—"

"I am not upset," he cut her off before she could stammer an apology. "This is actually quite serendipitous. It makes what I am about to request of you much less morally questionable. And I believe you possess some qualities which Dean finds aesthetically pleasing."

"Do you sweet-talk all the ladies like that?" Kelsey asked with a raise of one finely-arched brow. 

"No," he answered, deadpan.

She sighed, shaking her head. "So okay. Ask away."

He regarded her seriously. Finally making up his mind, he asked: "May I borrow you?"

"I'm sorry, what?" she said after a short pause.

"Your body," he clarified. "If you let me in, I can heal you from the inside."

"If anyone else had said that to me, I'd punch them in the face," Kelsey said. She heaved a sigh, as if she couldn’t believe she was listening to this. "Okay, let's assume you can actually do that. What's in it for you?" She leaned one hip against the bar.

"I want to kiss Dean. Just once," the angel said.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Just once?” she said, with a tone that indicated she thought limiting oneself to one kiss was inadvisable.

“Just once,” he confirmed. 

"And you think he'd be okay with it because I'm—"

"—Female, yes," Castiel finished, a note of sadness in his voice. 

"But..." she said and bit her lower lip. She had slightly larger front teeth, but they were straight and white and looked attractive on her. "He won't know it's you. Right?"

"That's correct," he said quietly. "I do not want to burden Dean with my feelings.” If he could just see what it was like, just once, he was certain he could put it all behind him. “I want to allow myself this one human folly before I let go of these unnecessary feelings." 

"No feelings are unnecessary," Kelsey said firmly, crossing her arms. 

"They are for an angel," he said morosely. 

She looked at him for a long moment. Castiel picked at a bit of the peeling paint on the bar, fidgeting in a remarkably human manner. "You don't ever want to tell him how you feel?" Kelsey said eventually, sounding sad.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Dean has enough to deal with as it is." He looked up and met her gaze. "I promise I will heal you if you do this for me. I keep my word. You will have a long life."

"So you want to jump ship for a minute, use my body to kiss that hot guy, and heal me from my terminal brain condition," she summarized.

"That is correct."

"Sign me up," she said, smiling. She had a beautiful smile. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, like Dean's did. 

"Thank you, Kelsey," he said earnestly, grasping her hands between his own and moving them up and down in a human gesture of gratefulness. 

She smiled at him a moment before blinking in confusion. "Wait, I never told you my n—"

Just then, Dean returned to the bar, sliding into place beside Castiel. He did a double take, gave Cas's and Kelsey's hands an odd sort of glance, frowning, and then moved one shoulder in a half-shrug and smiled. "Having fun, Cas?" he said easily, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Your name is Cas?" Kelsey asked as the angel finally released her hands. 

"Sure is!" Dean answered for him, giving the trenchcoated shoulder a familiar shake before pulling away. "Don't be fooled by his nerdy exterior. Guy's a tiger," he told Kelsey with a wink.

"I am not a tiger, Dean," Castiel said uncomprehendingly. 

The bartender looked as if she was suppressing a laugh. "I'm sure he is," she said instead, though, bless her. 

Dean gave a small chuckle. His laughter, his smiles came so easily around strangers, Castiel mused. It was fake emotion, forced reactions, but still nice to see and hear sometimes. "Well," he said, hopping off his barstool again, "I'm gonna check in with Sammy. We'll probably be heading out soon," he added. "So if you need to, uh..." He raised both eyebrows pointedly. "...exchange numbers, or whatever, better do it now."

"Okay, Dean," Castiel said simply as the hunter turned to find his brother.

"Did he just try to set us up?" Kelsey said once he was gone. "I don't know whether to be upset that he apparently forgot he was going to buy me a drink, or flattered that he thinks I'm good enough for you." 

"Both," Castiel suggested. "Are you ready to let me in?" 

"Kind of blunt, aren't you?" Kelsey grumbled, pushing a strand of dark hair behind one ear. "All right, Cas, I'm ready. My shift ended three minutes ago. But what about your, uh..." she snapped a few times, looking for the word. "Vessel?" she remembered, pointing. 

Castiel blinked. He'd actually forgotten about that. Since Jimmy Novak was long dead, he'd thought of this body as more his own than that of a human. "I will store it somewhere safe," he assured her. He thought he could probably zap an empty shell somewhere discreetly. 

She nodded. She was remarkably trusting, the angel mused, despite having a difficult life. Castiel liked her immensely.

"Okay," Castiel said, touching his index and middle fingers to both of her temples. "When you feel my Grace—"

"Your what?" she interrupted. 

"My Grace; it's—it's kind of like an angelic soul," he explained quickly. "When you feel my Grace pushing against you, yield to it and let me in." 

"I have no idea how to do that, but okay."

The angel closed his eyes and "jumped ship."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jimmy Novak's body was something Castiel was used to. He was used to looking at things from Jimmy Novak's height, holding things in Jimmy Novak's hands, looking in the mirror and seeing Jimmy Novak's face looking back. So when he opened his (now hazel) eyes and was met with the sight of Jimmy Novak's body slumped over the bar, it felt...odd. Extremely odd. Castiel touched his (her?) vessel's forehead with two delicate fingers. Kelsey had painted her nails. They were sparkly and a muted pink. The male vessel disappeared from the bar (Castiel had stored him in a nearby hotel room for a few minutes), and if anyone noticed, they didn't react.

The angel could feel Kelsey's consciousness underneath his Grace, small and meek compared to the immovable mass of power that was Castiel. A pink sparkly finger was pressed to Kelsey's forehead, and Castiel felt the infirmity there healed instantly. Kelsey's soul thrummed happily, the joy pure and somehow familiar. She was doing remarkably well, containing him like this. Her body did not even seem to be under any stress from it. 

Dean returned to the bar, Sam on his heels. Sam was wearing a satisfied smile—he'd won the pool game, no doubt. Castiel knew he didn't have much time if he was going to do this before the boys became suspicious about his whereabouts. He made his way out from behind the bar and approached Dean, who stopped short at seeing a person in his path. 

"Hi, uh...I didn't get your—" he started, shifting a bit, but Castiel didn't want to tell him another person's name. 

"Hello, Dean," he said, unable to help letting the phrase slip out, his voice coming out in a smooth alto. He grabbed the back of Dean's neck and crushed his (Kelsey’s) soft mouth against Dean's.

Dean tasted like beer, which wasn't surprising. He also tasted like toothpaste, which was slightly more surprising. He felt solid and warm against Castiel's pressing hands. He felt like flannel and too many clothes.

Most of all, he felt like home. 

The kiss only lasted for three or so seconds, but to Castiel it was simultaneously a blink of an eye and a lifetime. He couldn’t ever remember having been this happy before, and his memory stretched back to before the Garden of Eden. The angel felt large hands on his soft arms, gently pushing him back. Obliging, Castiel released him and looked up at the man who meant everything to him.

"I'm sorry, I..." Dean said awkwardly, looking at Kelsey briefly before darting his eyes away. "You're really hot and all, but..." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for words there. "It's just, recently I've, uh, kind of realized..." A shadow of a wry smile flashed across his face. He cleared his throat, his green eyes meeting Kelsey's hazel. "I mean, there's someone else," he finally finished. 

Castiel felt as though a giant balloon had been popped inside his chest. Which was a ridiculous (and anatomically impossible) thing to feel. He didn't say anything. He vaguely registered Sam in the background, raising his eyebrows at the proceedings.

Dean waited a few seconds for a response, but quickly realized he wasn’t going to get one. He cleared his throat again and then swung his arms forward and clapped once as if to break the silence. "Welp," he said breezily. "Have you, uh, happened to see my friend? We need to head out. I take it you and he didn't work out, huh?" Dean chuckled, but his smile didn't reach his eyes.

Castiel had felt foolish many times in his life, so the sensation was not unfamiliar. It was still remarkably unpleasant, however. He felt shame trickling down through his entire body (Kelsey’s entire body), like an egg cracked over his head. What had he thought would happen? What had he been hoping to gain from this? He suddenly couldn't remember anymore. 

"Guess not," Dean answered himself awkwardly, looking around for an escape. "Well, I guess I'll check the bathroom. See you around!" he said quickly, then nodded to Sam. They made their way toward the restroom. 

Kelsey's soul, reaching out to him hesitantly, was warm and soothing against his Grace, which felt bruised and dim. The soul hummed inside him reassuringly. She must have been able to sense what was going on, Castiel guessed. He sent a wave of gratitude through his Grace in response. It was nice of her to try, he thought, but nothing could comfort him right now. 

He disappeared in a flutter of wings to pick up his vessel. Hopefully he could get to the bar's bathroom before Dean and Sam grew suspicious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things were quite awkward when Castiel was back in his familiar male vessel. Kelsey blinked and looked around at her surroundings. "Where are we?" she asked.

"Motel across the street," the angel answered shortly. He didn't trust himself to speak too much right now. “I trust you can find your way to wherever you need to go next from here?” he inquired, and she nodded. He turned to leave, but Kelsey's voice stopped him.

"Castiel?" she said, and he turned to face her, surprised. "Oh," she said, realizing what she'd just called him. "Sorry, I—I kind of...read it? From your Grace or whatever. It was weird," she added conversationally. “Anyway, I..." She twirled a strand of hair, the same color as dark chocolate, around her finger. "I'm sorry that didn't go the way you wanted it to," she finished in a small voice.

"You are healed," he said, ignoring her sympathy. "Thank you for assisting me."

"I should be thanking you," she pointed out, one half of her mouth raising in a small smile. He nodded in acknowledgement of her gratitude. She hesitated a second before looking up at him again. "What are you going to do now?" 

"Let him go," Castiel replied simply, and turned to go again. 

"Thank you again, Castiel," Kelsey said. "Really. And...for the record, you don't seem like a quitter to me." 

The angel managed the smallest of smiles over his shoulder at her before vanishing in a rustling of wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ACTUAL PLOT COMING UP NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> Also, for the purposes of this story, Cas can fly short distances because the Grace he stole was from an angel with not-completely-broken wings (or at least, I am saying Theo's wings weren't completely broken. Just go with it). The Grace IS still burning out though, so he's not going to be flying at all past this chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean is oblivious, and we finally discuss the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a whole week to put up a second chapter, but then I decided nah. 
> 
> That's it; that's all that's here. Please enjoy. :)

"I don't get it. He was there when I went to go get you, and then when I turned back around he was gone," Dean said, checking under the last bathroom stall's door again (still no shoes). 

"Well, maybe he zapped somewhere to go do something and figured he'd be back before we knew it," Sam reasoned, leaning against the wall. Dean knew he probably looked like a moron for checking the stalls multiple times, but with an angel for a best friend, you never knew. 

"Nah, he's—I don't think he'd do that anymore," he said, pacing the length of the room. "If he had something to do, I think he'd tell us first."

"He's not answering his cell," Sam informed him, looking down at his own. He lifted his gaze to meet Dean's eyes, his brow knitting in concern. "Maybe it was an emergency?"

"Cas is tough; he'll be all right," Dean answered, more to himself than to his brother. "Try the cell again." 

"Right," Sam said. 

"No need," a gravelly voice said suddenly from approximately two inches behind Dean. "I'm here."

Dean made a noise that Sam would call a yelp but Dean will classify as an _exclamation of surprise,_ thank you, and nearly fell over whirling around so fast. His movement was so abrupt that he almost hit the angel in the face. He was glad he didn't. Hitting angels in the face fucking hurts. 

" _Je_ sus, Cas, don't just...zap right behind people in a public restroom!" he scolded, collecting himself and backing a few steps away. "People'll call the cops on you or something!"

"Are you going to call the cops on me?" Cas said flatly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "It was advice for the future, all right?" he said. "Where were you, anyway?"

Cas looked down at the ground for a minute. Dean couldn't imagine why. He'd always found it best _not_ to contemplate the floors of public restrooms. "I thought I saw something suspicious outside," he said, lifting his eyes back up to fix on Dean's. There was a kind of hardness behind the deep blue that made Dean suspicious. "I was just having a quick look. It was a false alarm," the angel finished. Dean privately thought he was full of shit.

"Well, next time, tell me or Sam, okay?" he said, though. "We could have backed you up. Lucky it wasn't anything serious."

"Yes," Cas echoed. "Lucky." Dean searched the familiar form. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was bothering the angel. He could read Cas as well as he could read Sam, by this point. But the angel was harder to read than usual right now. He was guarded. Closed-off. 

Dean didn't like it. 

"Hey, Cas, man, you okay?" he said quietly, almost gently, taking a few steps forward to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

Cas surprised him by stepping back and angling his body away from his touch. The rejection stung Dean like a whip. "I'm fine, Dean," said Castiel, sounding distinctly not-fine. "And even if I weren't, I wouldn't expect you to do anything about it." As someone who had been stabbed more times than he could count, Dean felt reasonably qualified to classify what he was feeling now as a similar pain. Just, y'know, emotionally or whatever. 

"Where is all this coming from?" he questioned, bewildered. "I mean, did I say something, or...?" 

"No, you didn't say anything to me, Dean," Cas bit back, with what Dean felt was a strange emphasis on the word _me._ "Back off."

He frowned, his hackles raising. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Whoa, let's all simmer down," Sam interjected, stepping between them like a goddamn teacher separating two children. "I think the stress of everything is making our tempers a little short," his brother continued, looking from Dean to Cas. "Let's just all agree that we should use the buddy system for right now and that we've all got each other's backs. Okay?"

Castiel was looking him right in the eyes. Blue, always so blue, impossibly deep blue. One look and Dean could usually read everything behind all that blue. " _Okay?_ " Sam said again, more insistently, and Cas's expression softened almost imperceptibly. At last, a bit of emotion flitted behind those eyes—it was sadness. Disappointment, maybe. Betrayal? They were all too similar to tell which it was. 

"Yes. I'm sorry, Dean," Cas mumbled in a low voice, turning away. 

"'S'okay," Dean replied. 

It wasn’t, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean didn’t get it. Ever since earlier that evening, Cas had been acting strangely. He stood at a distance from Dean at all times (or sat in the backseat in the Impala, even when Dean had so graciously offered him shotgun), he didn’t engage him in conversation, and he kept looking at him with an expression that suggested Dean had stepped on his favorite kitten or something. But Dean hadn’t been doing any kitten-stomping recently (or ever), so he was left baffled as to what Cas was upset with him about.

Dean was used to disappointing his friends and family. But at least he usually knew _why_ or _how_ he’d disappointed them.

When the three of them arrived across the street at the run-down, yellowed old building that was the motel they were currently staying at, Cas followed Dean and Sam up the stairs to their room and through the door. He immediately sat at the small circular wooden table with the books open on it instead of on the armchair near Dean’s chosen twin bed, which was where he usually sat. Maybe he just wanted to work the case, Dean thought, and was only upset that they’d wasted time at the bar.

 _The bar,_ he suddenly realized as he watched Cas flip through the pages of a particularly dusty old tome, _The bar!_ That had to be it. Cas had been acting perfectly normal before they’d gone to the bar. Whatever Dean had done, it had to have been at the bar. He ran through the events in his mind. Sam, seeing the table occupied and the armchair unoccupied, shrugged and gently flung his laptop bag onto the chair instead of the table. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” he said, turning to face Dean, who hadn’t moved much since entering the room.

It took him a moment to realize that he was being addressed. “Oh, uh,” he said intelligently after a pause. “I dunno. I’m not really feeling tired yet myself, and it looks like Cas is game for staying up a while too. Right, Cas?” he added hopefully.

The angel shot him a brief look. “I am _‘game’_ for getting this case out of the way, yes,” he answered pointedly, with what Dean felt was a little more sass than strictly necessary.

“Well all right then,” he said, deciding not to push it. Cas could be pissy all he wanted, but hell if that was going to stop Dean from doing his job. And what was with all this avoiding him today? He’d had enough of it. He sat in the other chair at the table, right next to Castiel. The angel sent him another look but made no comment. Dean pulled a book towards himself and leafed through its pages. So far, none of them had found any creature that had the same M.O. as the one they were seeking: three men had been trampled to death in the past week, late at night by the side of the road. They would have written it off as just a very pissed-off animal, except that in each case, it had been discovered that the men were on their way to a lover’s house. Oh, and they were also all married. Typical small-town drama. 

He tried to absorb what he was reading about nature spirits, but his eyes kept wandering over to Cas, who was studying his own book more intently than usual (and Cas was usually pretty intent to begin with). He was glaring at that book like it had personally offended him. Dean glanced over at Sam, who had kicked off his shoes (no one would be able to go over _there_ for a while) and was on his laptop on his bed. He seemed pretty absorbed in his research, so Dean felt reasonably safe saying quietly, “Cas, do you, uh…wanna talk about anything?”

The angel froze mid-page-turn and didn’t speak for a moment. “No, Dean, I’m not really in a talking mood, unless you want to talk about catching whatever monster we’re hunting.”

“Look, I know I did something wrong,” Dean said in a placating tone, “But I don’t know what it was. C’mon, help me out, man.” Cas glanced into his eyes, and Dean made a conscious effort to make his own look as beseeching as possible. He didn’t usually resort to Puppy Dog Eyes (that was Sam’s territory), but usually if he asked nicely enough, his good buddy Cas came through. 

Cas opened his mouth to reply, then seemed to decide that the words were not worth it, shutting it again and shaking his head. His eyes searched Dean’s. They were azure. Or cobalt. Sapphire? 

Just as he was about to think of a fourth color, the angel darted his eyes away. Dean blinked as if he’d just spaced out. _Sapphire?_ What the hell was that even about. “Dean,” Cas finally said quietly, snapping Dean back to attention, “You really didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…” He fidgeted a little, which was unlike him. “ _Frustrated_ with the circumstances.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it, man,” he agreed. “Life on the road can really put you in a sour mood sometimes. But don’t worry, we’ll…” Castiel turned his head to meet Dean’s eyes again, and the rest of Dean’s sentence died in his throat. He hadn’t really noticed how close they were until Cas was almost nose-to-nose with him. He swallowed. “Uh, we’ll show you the ropes and you’ll get used to it,” he said quietly, attempting to pick up where he’d left off. 

“What ropes?” said Castiel with a slight head-tilt. He'd once found the gesture strange and alien, but now Dean found it almost endearing.

Okay, so he found it totally endearing.

“It’s an expression,” Dean explained. 

“Oh. Of course,” the angel muttered, and continued to read his book until he seemed to sense that Dean was still looking at him. He faced Dean again. “Was there something else?” he prompted.

“Not, uh, not really,” Dean said quickly. He tried to get back to his book as well, ignoring how close Castiel’s arm was to his. Close enough to feel the warmth through that dumb trenchcoat he never took off. What was up with that, anyway? Didn’t angels ever get toasty? He had a sudden unwarranted image of Castiel somewhere sandy and warm, reclining in a beach chair, sipping something pink and fruity with a little paper umbrella in it, all while still rocking the trenchcoat. He only just managed to stifle the laugh that had almost escaped at the thought. 

“Guys, I think I found something,” Sam exclaimed suddenly, snapping Dean out of any further thoughts of his best friend at the beach. 

“What’ve you got?” Dean said, happy to have an excuse to close his book. The movement made his elbow brush Castiel’s arm, and the angel scooted back instantly to avoid the contact. Dean tried not to be too offended by that. He hadn’t even touched any monster guts or remains today—he was perfectly clean. 

“Take a look at this,” said Sam, sounding quite excited. Nerd. He turned his laptop around to show Dean and Cas the screen. 

“‘Deer Woman’?” Dean read. “Never heard of her.”

“Neither had I, but apparently it’s a pretty popular story here,” his brother continued. “She’s a beautiful spirit who lures away lustful, promiscuous, or unfaithful men, and then…get this… _stomps them to death._ ” His tone was positively triumphant, which Dean thought was slightly indecorous, considering what he’d just said.

“That does seem to fit what we’re looking for,” said Castiel. “How do we find it and kill it?”

“Well, like I said, she goes after guys that are easily taken in by her beauty—Guess it’s lucky we can use Dean for bait—“

“Hey!” protested Dean. “I’m not unfaithful!”

“You’re not exactly faith _ful_ either, Dean,” Sam pointed out, flashing a Grade-A Bitchface. 

“Screw you,” said Dean. “Answer Cas’s question. How do we kill it?”

Sam scanned the webpage again. “Uh, it says you can incapacitate her with a chant and some tobacco…and that she’ll run away if you see her hooves.”

“Her hooves?” Dean echoed incredulously.

“Yeah, I guess she’s self-conscious about them or something,” Sam shrugged. 

“Why would she be? She’s called _Deer Woman,_ ” Dean pointed out. 

“I dunno, Dean, why don’t we ask _her,_ ” suggested Sam with a sigh and a tone that indicated that he thought this was a stupid line of questioning.

“Perhaps she does not actually prefer to be addressed by that name,” Castiel said thoughtfully. 

“Well, whatever you call her, she’ll be gone by tomorrow,” said Dean resignedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It turned out that tracking a flighty woman with deer hooves was more difficult than they’d first predicted and the Deer Woman was not gone by the next day. Maybe she’d caught on that her kills were attracting attention, because she was nowhere in sight throughout the whole area. Not even Cas’s keen eyes could spot her. As was usually the case with particularly frustrating and cautious monsters, the three resigned themselves to waiting until she struck again to catch her in the act.

In the meantime, they gathered what information they could from the locals. Wynona, Oklahoma was a tiny town, comprising a grand .5 square miles in Osage County. It generally was not very newsworthy, so when all these mysterious deaths started happening, it had drawn in a lot of those weird tourists that liked to investigate unusual events like that. Wynona was so small that there were not any motels there, so of course that meant all the freaky murder enthusiasts were staying in the same area as Dean, Sam, and Castiel (Pawhuska, which was 15 minutes away). They picked the most obscure motel they could find, of course. The “tourists” were likely to stay at the nicer places. Even the bar they’d chosen for the area was not in the actual town. There was a burger place, though, which was pretty damn decent. 

It was during a trip to the burger place that they picked up an interesting bit of information. Dean had effortlessly managed to strike up a conversation with one of the female customers, sitting the next yellow booth over. The discussion had drifted to the local deaths. “Terrible,” said the woman, shaking a head of brown curls.

“Hey, speaking of which, you ever heard of a ‘Deer Woman’?” Dean asked her. 

“Of course I have,” she said, blinking up at him with large brown eyes. “Everyone around here knows about Deer Woman. She’s, like, a local thing.” She took a large sip from her Diet Coke.

Dean nodded. “Do you think she’s real?”

The woman chewed a nail uncertainly. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I mean, I didn’t. I shouldn’t. But those deaths recently…” she broke off and looked around, as if checking to make sure no one else was listening. They weren’t, so she continued. “I think someone is _playing_ Deer Woman, at least,” she confided quietly, “killing those guys. I heard they were all having affairs. Whoever’s doing this probably got jilted and is taking it out on other people.”

“Jilted?” Dean pressed, resting his arms over the top of the booth so he could look down at her. 

“Yeah, you know,” the brunette said. “Deer Woman is supposed to go after people who break their lovers’ hearts and stuff.”

“I haven’t heard that part of it,” Dean admitted. “I only heard the stuff about going after unfaithful horndogs.”

“Well, I mean, I guess the stories are all a little different, but I always heard that she kills guys who betray their girlfriends and stuff,” she explained, taking a bite of salad. Dean wasn’t sure why she bothered choosing the salad, since the whole thing was drenched in Ranch dressing and that negated any health benefits the salad might have provided.

“Interesting,” he said. “Well, hey, nice talking to you,” he added with a smile before turning around in his seat and sinking back down into the booth. “Did you hear that?” he said in a low tone to Sam and Cas, who were seated on the opposite side of the booth (which was strange, because Castiel nearly always sat next to Dean, he thought grumpily). 

“That Deer Woman kills heartbreakers?” Sam said. “That wasn’t on most of the websites I checked, but I did see something like that on one or two.” 

“I don’t really see how this information will be helpful, but…” Castiel said.

“…Every little bit helps,” Dean finished, and smiled across the table at him. Cas looked as if he wanted to smile back before looking away suddenly and squaring his jaw. What the hell was even up with him? His smile faded and he looked down at his bacon cheeseburger, which didn’t seem as appealing as it had a moment ago. Whatever the angel said to the contrary, clearly he was angry at Dean for something. 

Sam’s eyes moved from Dean to Cas, making that annoying _Here we go again_ face of his with the raised eyebrows. He said nothing, though, and only took a bite of his chicken salad. He hadn’t put any Ranch dressing on it, because he was even girlier about health foods than actual girls.

Dean was kind of annoyed by Sam’s smug, knowing attitude, so he ripped into his cheeseburger with a little more vigor than was required for eating, really. “So what’re we doing from here? Hanging out on the roads looking for heartbreaking horndogs?”

“We don’t exactly have to look for any,” Sam said innocently, sipping his water. “We’ve got one right here.”

“Screw you,” said Dean again, and looked at his friend for support. “I am not either of those things! Right, Cas?” Maybe if he just talked to the guy more, he would open up to him again, he hoped.

Cas glanced at Dean a moment before looking out the window and clearing his throat in a remarkably un-Cas-like display of awkwardness. Dean felt like someone had slapped him in the face. He thought Cas, of all people, would have come to his defense. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, though it came out sounding more hurt than indignant.

Cas looked down at his hands. “I don’t think you have ill intentions or that you mean to exhibit either tendency,” he finally said belatedly. 

“Oh, so you’re just saying that I’m a douchebag who doesn’t _know_ he’s a douchebag?” Dean bit back. 

“I’m _saying,_ ” said Castiel deliberately, looking Dean in the eye somewhat defiantly, “that _others_ may _think_ that of you.” 

Dean stared him in the face, feeling betrayed. “Yeah, others like _you,_ apparently,” he said in an undertone. He took another bite of burger, even though he wasn’t really hungry anymore.

Sam finally took pity on him. “Dean, I’m sorry,” he said in a placating voice. “I was just trying to push your buttons. You’re not a horndog; you just…” he exhaled loudly, looking around for the right words. “appreciate beauty,” he finally decided. The explanation sounded forced to Dean. Was this really what the two of them thought about him? He hadn’t even had any one-night-stands in months! Was it a crime to hit on a pretty girl if she seemed into him? Seeing that Dean was not responding, Sam turned his attention back to his girly salad, and an air of awkwardness hung over the table. 

“I am also sorry,” Castiel said quietly after Dean had taken another few unsatisfying bites out of his cheeseburger. “It was petty and selfish of me to insinuate what I did. I took out my frustration on you, and it was wrong.” Having said his piece, he folded his hands carefully in front of him and spoke no further. He hadn’t gotten anything to eat, as usual, so he couldn’t even occupy himself with stuffing his face like Dean was. 

“It’s okay,” Dean said, taken aback at Castiel’s sincere apology. “You guys are probably right, anyway,” he added with a shrug, feeling gracious.

“No,” interjected Castiel firmly. “We are not.” He was looking at Dean fiercely, and the expression of mingled exasperation and admiration was extraordinarily familiar to Dean. It was kind of good to see again. “You are not unfaithful, Dean. You are the most loyal person I know.” 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean murmured after a moment. His eyes searched the angel’s, looking for anything else to read in Cas’s expression, searching desperately for a hint towards how he had let him down recently. He wished Cas would just tell him. He hated feeling guilty for something he couldn’t even identify.

After several moments, Sam cleared his throat loudly, and it was like someone had clapped right next to Dean’s ear. He blinked and was brought back to earth. “Well, if you guys are done with your heart-to-heart, we should get back out there and look for our monster,” his brother continued, putting the disposable utensils in his salad container and gathering up Dean’s paper wrappers. 

“Right, yeah,” said Dean. “Let’s go deer hunting.” He stood up with the other two.

But as they filed out the door, Dean’s thoughts were still lingering on Cas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They parked the Impala off the side of one of the roads (of which there weren’t many). It was gearing up to be a very dull stakeout. Sam had slapped his hand off the tape deck already after he had attempted to replay the Metallica tape for the fourth time in a row.

“We are going,” Sam said firmly, “to listen to the radio.”

“All right,” Dean shrugged, relenting for once. “But if Deer Woman doesn’t show up because she only listens to good music, I’m blaming you.” Sam rolled his eyes and punched a button. It was almost useless keeping it on one station with how often they traveled, so he had to turn the dial until something that wasn’t warbling static was audible. He briefly rested on a pop music station, since it was the first clear signal they’d gotten. “Ugh, man,” Dean protested. “I’d rather have the static.” Sam made a face at him, but continued turning the dial until he located a static-y classic rock station. 

And then they waited.

And waited. 

Hardly any cars passed at all. It was getting steadily darker, and they’d seen neither hide nor hair of Deer Woman (or hoof, Dean supposed). The tobacco leaves they’d brought to burn if she showed up were stinking up Baby. It was around the time that the insects’ chirping outside became louder than the radio that Sam heaved a sigh. “Well,” he said, slapping his enormous hands on his jeans, “I’m gonna step outside for a bit.”

“Why?” said Dean, at the same time as Castiel said “Should I go with you?”

Sam gave them both the same quizzical look. “I’m taking a piss, if you must know, so no, I don’t think I’ll need any backup,” he told them. Dean should have figured. Sam’s sasquatch-like body required a lot of hydration. The kid drank a lot of water. Sam opened the passenger side door, which squeaked and creaked familiarly, and headed into a copse of bushes nearby. 

Dean was left to enjoy an awkward silence with the angel sitting in his backseat. He wanted to say something, or ask something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. This whole thing was making working this job uncomfortable for everyone, and if Dean was the cause of it, he would have really liked to set it right. He picked at a frayed spot on his jeans, the shuffling of his many layers of shirts the only sound either of them made. He felt like even turning around to look at Castiel would have made him more self-conscious. But after what seemed like five minutes (but was really only one, probably), he couldn’t take it anymore. He twisted around to face his friend and took a leap of—well, not faith, but…yeah, faith. “All right, Cas, I know I did something wrong at that bar. Are you gonna tell me what, or am I gonna have to force it out of you?”

Castiel looked startled, though whether it was at Dean’s sudden movement and noise or at what he was actually saying, Dean wasn’t sure. He opened his mouth, made a preliminary syllable, then cut off with a sigh. After a moment, he tried again. He looked reluctant. “Dean. You can’t force me to tell you anything. And I’ve already told you, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice sounded tired, especially for a guy who didn’t _get_ tired. 

“Bullshit!” Dean said, adjusting himself on the seat so he could see Cas better without straining his neck. “You’ve been avoiding me like…like I’m diseased or something!” Usually he would have come up with something better than that, but it had been a long day. 

“I’ve been here the entire time, Dean,” sighed Castiel wearily. “I have not been avoiding you.”

“That’s crap and you know it,” Dean shot back. He probably should have stopped before he said anything else, but he didn’t. “You haven’t been _standing_ near me, or _sitting_ near me, or even _talking_ much to me!” A short pause. “I mean, hell, you skitter away if I even get _near_ you!” He hadn’t meant to be such a girl about this, but all his insecurities just poured out before he could stop them, like the most retarded spilled bottle of soda. 

“I wasn’t aware so much of your peace of mind rested on my _standing_ near you,” said Castiel testily, leaning forward. It wasn’t under the most favorable of circumstances, but at least he was engaging with Dean now. “I’m sorry for assuming that you’d rather _stand_ or _sit_ or _be near_ other people.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” retorted Dean, voice raising in outrage. “Like who?!”

“Like Kelsey!” spat Cas, and then looked surprised and horrified at himself, withdrawing immediately.

“Kelsey?” Dean echoed, blinking in confusion, all anger forgotten. “Who is that?”

Cas looked at him with his patented _How do you humans walk around being that stupid?_ face. “The bartender,” he said slowly, as if Dean were a very small child and needed to have things explained to him carefully. Dean continued to look blank for a second, so he huffed a sigh of indignation and revised. “The woman who kissed you in the bar!” 

Dean suddenly remembered what had happened at the bar. “Oh, her!” he said. He sifted through the memories. He had flirted with the hot bartender, who seemed really into him; then he’d gone to the bathroom and seen Cas holding her hand when he’d come back out (which was a freakishly weird thing to see, by the way, and he’d walked in on his brother with a woman, so he was used to weird), so naturally he had stopped pursuing her since Cas probably needed to loosen up anyway. And then, when Cas had left to check out something outside, the bartender (Kelsey, he guessed) had kissed him, Dean. He’d been so focused on trying to figure out what was wrong with Cas that he hadn’t even thought that she might have been a factor—of course!

“I think I get it now. Listen, I’m sorry, Cas,” he said, and Castiel looked up at him with an impossibly hopeful expression. “I didn’t know you liked her so much or I never would have offered to get her a drink. And _she_ kissed _me,_ I promise,” he assured him, with all the warmth in his voice he could muster. 

Castiel, strangely, did not sing his grateful praises or tearfully thank Dean for his kindness. He stared at him in mild horror. Dean was mystified by the odd reaction, but did not get a chance to pursue this line of thought, because at that moment Sam emerged again from the bushes and walked back to the car. He opened the door, which again squeaked in protest, and closed it behind him, settling himself down in the passenger seat again.

A brief silence followed. Sam sighed. “Dammit, I gave you guys five extra minutes and there is _still_ more tension than I can bear in this car,” he complained. 

“No there isn’t,” Dean protested. “Me and Cas have come to an understanding, right Cas?” He winked at the angel, who looked very uncomfortable. He must’ve been shy about having a crush, which was actually pretty adorable, heh. “We can head to that bar tonight before they close since Deer Lady isn’t showing up, how’s that?” he suggested. He turned the key in the ignition, and the Impala rumbled to life. “Besides, I have to pee.”

“Wait a second,” said Sam, “ _I_ have to pee in the bushes, but when _you_ have to go suddenly we can leave?” He sounded hilariously scandalized about it.

“Yep,” Dean said cheerily, putting the car into drive and pulling back out onto the road. “That’s about the size of it. Plus Cas here is gonna talk to a bartender,” he added. Cas didn’t voice his approval, but made no protests either, so they headed back to the bar in Pawhuska. 

Dean ignored the unpleasant clenching feeling in his gut at the thought of Cas having been hung up on this girl the whole time. What right did he have to be so selfish, to get in the way of the angel’s happiness? He’d been doing that for far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, Deer Woman IS an actual legend around that area of the US. Deer Woman also has a Wikipedia page. 
> 
> Wynona, Oklahoma is a real place and you would not believe how much research I did so that the locations were plausible. Hours and hours of research. Also, the burger place mentioned is called DJ's Burgers. They have a Facebook page and I even found a photocopy of their menu online. FUN FACTS


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cas continues to hurt, Dean continues to flirt, and Sam continues to get the dirt (on the case).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing Sam's POV. One-shot characters are so fun.
> 
> But Dean's narration in this chapter is probably my favorite part of the whole thing.

“You look down,” said Kelsey, sliding another mug to Castiel. “What happened?” Castiel grabbed the mug and took a sizable swallow of the amber liquid. He hadn’t even really wanted to be here, but now that Dean had gotten the idea into his head that the angel was romantically interested in Kelsey, he was determined to make sure his good buddy Castiel did not miss out on anything. It would have been sweet, if it wasn’t so idiotic and misguided. Dean had all but pushed him over to the bar, patted him on the back, winked, and then vanished to the other side of the bar to chat up a pair of twenty-somethings in pink and orange with almost identical teased blonde hairstyles. 

“Dean thinks I am interested in you,” the angel replied finally. He ran a finger through the condensation on his mug absently. 

Kelsey made a face at him. She’d grabbed a rag and some water and started to clean the surface of the bar briefly—someone had spilled their drink a few minutes ago. “Gee, you really know how to make a girl feel special,” she deadpanned. Castiel was still a little unclear on sarcasm, but picked up that she was being ironic nevertheless. 

“Romantically,” he clarified. “I do find you interesting platonically, of course.”

“That’s better,” she said approvingly, wringing out the rag into a small bucket of water. She dried her hands on her pants. “So what made him think that?” 

“I may have unintentionally led him to infer that the kiss was what upset me,” he sighed. “Of course, he interpreted it as jealousy that you kissed him.” Pause. “Even though it was really me.”

“I know, Cas, I was there, remember?” she reminded him, her mouth quirked in a teasing half-smile. The nickname sounded natural and pleasant in her voice. For someone he’d just met, he felt as if he had known Kelsey for quite a long time. There was something about her that was comforting and familiar. He had thought her soul beautiful the first time he saw it, but ever since the first night he had met her, it seemed to glow even brighter, become more mesmerizing. He couldn’t help but feel a little reassured in her presence. He offered a ghost of a smile in return. 

“At least you provide engaging conversation, which is more than what I can say for many of the patrons in these types of establishments,” he admitted. 

“I’ll take that for the compliment it was meant to be, and ignore the implications against my patrons,” Kelsey replied, sitting down on the stool behind the bar for a moment since no one was currently trying to get her attention. “Well, I’ve been kinda glancing over at Dean once in a while since you guys got here, and let me tell you, the looks he has been shooting us constantly? He does _not_ look like a happy camper.” 

“Really?” Castiel asked, surprised. He started to turn around to look, but Kelsey grabbed his shoulder.

“Don’t look now; he’s looking our way,” she told him in an undertone. Castiel wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, but decided to follow her advice anyway. “Anyway, yeah, he seems pretty jealous to me,” she informed him, darting her hazel eyes from Dean’s direction to Castiel’s face and releasing his shoulder.

The angel was mystified by this strange development. “Jealous?” he repeated. “Over whom?”

She looked at him with an expression one might give a kitten who has just run into a wall. “Over _you,_ obviously.” 

“But,” Castiel began, his brow furrowing in confusion, “Dean is the one who suggested that I—”

She cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Never mind that. I mean—oh, hold on,” she interrupted herself to attend to a woman’s drink order, but soon returned. “I mean, look at me,” she continued without missing a beat, gesturing with both hands to her attractive body. “Not to toot my own horn, but I’m kind of a catch. But as soon as he saw you with me, he just backed right off. That tells you right off the bat what he cares more about.”

“I would never contest the fact that Dean cares about me,” Castiel said honestly. “It is the type of caring that I am unsure of,” he added, staring down at his drink, which he hadn’t touched for some time. 

“Well, why don’t you ask him?” she questioned. “You don’t exactly look like someone who is ready to, as you said, ‘let him go.’ So why don’t you figure out where you stand to see where you’re going from here?”

The angel wasn’t really clear on how one’s location changed anything in this situation, but sighed at her suggestion. “I couldn’t do that,” he mumbled. “It would just be another distraction from the job, and Dean has made his feelings quite clear about distractions from the job.” He took a swig from his drink. It was unsatisfying. “Which, by the way, I should be focusing on right now instead of my own self-interest.” 

“Ask him after the case then,” Kelsey persisted. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Castiel replied, setting down his glass. He looked over briefly at Dean, who was making both the women he was talking to laugh. He felt an unpleasant clench in his—well, he didn’t exactly have a gut, but the effect was the same. Castiel stood suddenly. “I’m going to head back to the motel. Perhaps some research will take my mind off things.” The angel wasn’t completely comfortable with using the Internet yet, but Sam had given him permission to use his laptop whenever he wanted, so he supposed he should make himself useful. He pulled some crumpled bills out of his trenchcoat pocket and laid them on the bar. “Thank you for the conversation,” he said to Kelsey.

She looked at him fondly. “I know you just want to make Dean happy,” she said. Then she did something Castiel wasn’t expecting: she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. It was a tender gesture the likes of which Castiel had never been given before. He felt somewhat soothed. She smiled at him. “But you deserve to be happy too,” she finished. 

He couldn’t help but smile reluctantly at the conviction in her words, even if he didn’t believe them. 

He left the bar feeling slightly more optimistic than he had when he had been dragged in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was pretty sure he was the only one of them currently focused on the case instead of making goo-goo eyes at each other when they thought no one could see them. Not that he wasn’t used to that kind of thing, but Cas hadn’t hung around them for this long in…well, forever, really, so being confined with the two of them at all times was kind of frustrating. He didn’t really care if his brother was being Touched by an Angel; he just wanted to catch the monster and have a beer at the end of the day. Was that really so much to ask?

Since Dean insisted on dragging them all back to the tiny bar they’d discovered their first night in town, he figured he might as well make the most of the atmosphere and talk to the locals about the case. Dean, meanwhile, sitting at the far end of the bar, was making the most of the atmosphere by checking out girls. And Cas. Mostly Cas. The angel himself had seemed reluctant to come, but was chatting with the bartender comfortably enough.

“So,” Sam said, setting down his beer and addressing the group of people he’d struck up a conversation with. He usually found talking to strangers pretty easy, and tonight was no exception: the table had readily accepted “Allen” into their midst. “I’m sure you guys have heard about all the stiffs by the side of the road, right?” 

“Oh, sure,” said the woman sitting next to him at the table. Her name was Julia and she had the scariest bright-red talons he’d ever seen on a woman (how did you hold a drink with those, even?), but she seemed pretty nice otherwise, if a bit too flirty. “I mean, not much happens in Wynona, so when something does…” she gestured around the table.

“…We take notice,” finished Chris, the heavyset man across from Julia. Chris had been trying to catch her eye all evening, buying her drinks and finishing her sentences whenever possible (even when the ending of the sentence was understood, as this one had been). Julia had been “accidentally” bumping her leg up against Sam’s for the past half-hour, but Sam didn’t have the heart to break it to the guy.

“Right,” said Sam, leaning forward to indicate his interest in the subject. He had to hunch his shoulders a bit, because his elbows were somewhat crowded by all the other people at the small round table. There was Nate, a senior from Oklahoma State who was studying zoology and was home for fall break; Amy, a petite woman with short black hair and a soft, heart-shaped face who had lived in Wynona all her life; Jeremy, a straight-laced man who wore nice pants, square glasses, and a tucked-in shirt and who thought (erroneously) that he was funny; and a strange, gangly man named Franklin, who snorted when he laughed (which was more often and more easily than usually deemed appropriate, in Sam’s opinion). “I’ve heard a lot of people around here saying they think it’s Deer Woman, but I’m not sure I believe in stuff like that.” This was a classic way to incite a reaction from people: play the skeptic. He scooted his drink closer to himself, away from Franklin, who was sitting on his other side and looked as though he might have been planning to take it while Sam wasn’t looking. 

“Well, you should!” piped up Amy. “I’ve totally seen her before. With my boyfriend!” Typical reaction from someone who’d lived here forever, Sam thought. People who lived in their hometown tended to become very attached to and defensive of their local urban legends. 

“I don’t think it’s possible, but, hey, what do I know. I’m still learning,” shrugged Nate, sipping his beer. He was fresh-faced and looked younger than he was, and the drink looked odd in his hand. 

“Maybe she’s upset that it’s almost November,” quipped Jeremy, and then ruined his own joke by explaining, “because that’s deer season.” Franklin snorted up a storm at it anyway. 

“Heh, yeah, maybe,” Sam forced a weak chuckle, looking down at the table, seemingly in thought. He glanced over at Cas, who was still engaged in conversation with the cute bartender. Sam didn’t really detect anything beyond friendship happening there. The woman looked at Castiel like he was a long-lost cousin or something. Sam’s eyes darted over to Dean next. He was surrounded by two women who looked like they used the same horrible hair dye. His brother was smiling and nodding at the girls whenever they said something, but he kept looking over in Cas’s direction, like he hoped Cas would see how much fun he was totally having with these women. Sam forced down the wave of exasperation he felt towards both of them at the moment and looked back at his table companions. 

“So you guys all seem pretty familiar with the whole Deer Woman thing. I’m just here on business, so can you guys, like…” he sipped from his glass, pretending to choose his words. “What’s the deal on her anyway?” he started again. “Where did that legend even come from?”

“I think it came from a Native American story,” Amy answered thoughtfully, then looked around the table for confirmation. “Right?...”

“Yeah, yeah!” agreed Julia, pointing one frightening dragon claw at Amy. Sam hoped she never pointed those things in his direction. “She’s right!”

“I think so too,” chimed in Chris, eager to agree with Julia. Poor guy.

“What’s the story?” Sam pressed, shifting on his chair and readjusting his elbows. He felt really cramped here. It wasn’t an uncommon problem, given his height, but it felt especially confining here.

“Umm,” Amy started, sipping something pink from her glass to give her time to think. “I think it goes something like, there was this beautiful girl with a boyfriend from another tribe, right?” Sam nodded even though the question had been rhetorical. “And he like, takes her to a field or something, and um…” she looked around, as if embarrassed to say the next part aloud. “…And he rapes her, right, and then stabs her and leaves her to die.” Sam cringed. That had escalated quickly. Amy continued, gesturing with both her dainty hands. “And as she’s dying, this deer, like, wanders over and lays down with her so she wouldn’t have to die alone, and the Great Spirit or whoever gives them new life as one being.” She took another sip of her drink, glancing around the table a bit self-consciously. “So now she kills guys who have betrayed their girlfriends or who are, like, too obsessed with beauty over substance or whatever,” she finished. 

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard that story before,” Nate said, nodding. 

“Never heard it with the word ‘like’ used that frequently, though,” said Jeremy, which sent Franklin off on another pig imitation. Jeremy looked rather pleased at the reaction he’d gotten. Sam wished Franklin would stop encouraging him. 

“So it’s supposed to be like a cautionary tale?” Sam asked.

“More like a cautionary _white_ tail,” said Jeremy, and Jesus Christ, Franklin sounded like a freaking lawnmower or something. Sam was pleased to see that no one else thought it was funny, though: Julia had pursed her lips (Chris had smiled at the joke, but after a quick glance at Julia, the smile had melted off his face) and Amy had rolled her eyes. 

“Dude,” said Nate, shaking his head at Jeremy. “Just stop.” Sam liked this kid. Jeremy dropped the smug smile. 

The younger Winchester supposed he should share this new information with his brother and Cas. Another cursory glance toward the bar told him that Castiel had most likely already left for the motel, because he wasn’t there talking to the bartender and Cas hardly ever started conversations with strangers. 

“Well,” Sam said, “whatever it is, Deer Woman or psycho miniature horse or what”—Julia giggled in her flirtiest, flutteriest voice at the joke and rubbed her foot against his leg, which made Sam jump slightly and scoot over—“I hope they catch it soon.” He’d gotten enough information to make some progress, so there was no reason to be here any longer. He drank the last of his beer and set down his glass, then got to his feet. 

“You’re not leaving, are you, Allen?” Julia simpered.

“’Fraid so,” he told her with a feigned regretful expression. “Got a big day ahead tomorrow.” Julia pouted, twirling a strand of curly blonde hair around one of her freakish claws. Sam carefully squeezed through the space between his chair and Julia’s to extract himself from the group around the table. “Thanks for the company and the chat, everyone,” he said kindly to them all with a smile. Everyone murmured their “bye”s and their “take care”s. Julia proclaimed that she was going to the little girls’ room, and brushed past Sam as she went. Sam would have thought it was an accident, except then she shot a wink over her shoulder as she walked away.

Sam turned to leave, but stopped short and patted his jacket pocket. He discovered a folded napkin in the pocket upon searching it, and unfolded it, even though he had a good idea what it might be. Sure enough, it was a sequence of numbers written in loopy handwriting. 

He walked back over to the table and leaned down near Chris, putting a hand on his shoulder to alert him of his presence and talking quietly to him. “This is Julia’s,” he told him, handing him the napkin. 

Chris held the napkin reverently, then looked at him like Sam had just saved the world (which, y’know, he kinda did once, not to brag or anything). “Thanks, Allen,” he breathed.

“Good luck, tiger,” said Sam, patting Chris on the back once before making his way over to his brother. 

Dean was still engaged in shallow conversation with Thing 1 and Thing 2, and Sam announced his presence by clearing his throat. Dean turned on his stool. “Hey, Allen,” he greeted breezily. Thank goodness they always discussed aliases beforehand, Sam thought. 

“Hey,” he said back. “You got a minute?” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully in the direction of the two blondes. 

Dean looked somewhat put out that Sam had the gall to stay on task when he wasn’t, but forced a winsome smile at the girls. “Would you ladies excuse me for a moment?” he said genially. The two women giggled and nodded, so after he rose from his stool, Dean allowed his brother to pull him aside.

“First of all,” Sam said, leaning down slightly so he could talk more quietly (Dean absolutely hated it when he did this), “you know Cas left, right?” This was, as the younger Winchester had suspected, news to Dean, for his head whipped around so fast to where Castiel had been that he might have been part owl. His expression quickly clouded into one of mixed concern and frustration. Dean made that face a lot when Cas was the topic of discussion. Sam hit his brother’s arm to bring his attention back to him. “Don’t worry; I’m sure he just went back to the motel. We’ll try his phone in a minute.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “I get the feeling that you didn’t just come to tell me that Cas left, though, so what else you got?”

“Someone who’s lived in Wynona her whole life just told me the supposed origin story of Deer Woman,” said Sam, and he couldn’t help but let a little excitement creep into his voice. There was something sort of exhilarating about approaching a challenge with a little more knowledge than when you’d started. It made him feel like he had one more trick up his sleeve that the enemy didn’t know he had. 

“What are you, Deer Lady’s fanboy now?” Dean scoffed, making fun of his noble pursuit of knowledge as usual. Whatever. Dean could make fun all he wanted; Sam was the one who had the tricks up his sleeve. Despite the older Winchester’s current douchebagginess, Sam relayed the story Amy had told him.

“So it’s a revenge kinda thing?” his brother asked when Sam was done. He looked thoughtful. “Can’t really blame her for being pissed, if that story is true.” 

“Yeah, I kinda agree with you on that one,” Sam said ruefully, “but even if it is true, we have to stop her.”

“I know, Sam; I’m not a moron,” Dean informed him, rolling his eyes. He glanced back at the two girls he’d been talking to, one of which noticed and nudged her friend so she turned to look at him too. They both waved giddily. Dean waved back, forcing a quick smile. 

“Dude, what are you _doing?_ ” Sam sighed. 

“What?” said Dean, his tone slightly defensive.

“You know, I don’t think Cas is into that bartender,” the younger Winchester said pointedly, raising his eyebrows at his brother, who cleared his throat and shuffled slightly, glancing around at nothing in particular. “And even if he were, I don’t think you should pretend to be so cool with it.”

“I _am_ cool with it!” Dean snapped, crossing his arms like an actual pouting child.

“Hey, whatever you say,” he said, holding up his large hands in mock surrender. “But I don’t know how else to explain your sudden interest in…” he hooked a thumb in the direction of the two girls. The one wearing pink sloshed her drink all down her front, and promptly began cracking up at it. The other one started laughing so hard she had to clutch her friend’s arm to keep from falling off her stool. Sam looked back at his brother with a _Really?_ expression, and Dean had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. 

“All right,” he hissed, tossing up his hands. “So I’m a little off my game. The pickings are kind of slim here, Sam!” he said blusteringly. Sam just flashed him his best bitchface. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to go see if Cas is across the street,” he said. “Have fun with the Olsen twins.” He excused himself and left the bar, leaving Dean looking after him with a mixture of indignation and chagrin. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Castiel’s number. He could have just checked the motel room first before calling, but he told Dean he would try the phone first, so that’s what he was doing. Besides, it would take a few minutes to walk back, so this method of contact was faster.

Cas picked up on the third ring. “Hello, Sam,” said the angel’s gravelly voice on the other end. 

“Hey, Cas,” he said, looking both ways (more out of habit than anything, because there wasn’t much in the way of traffic here) before jogging slightly across the street. “Are you in the motel room?”

“Yes,” said Castiel. “I’m doing some research on your laptop, since you granted me permission to use it anytime.”

“That’s right, I did,” Sam assured him. “Why’d you leave without saying anything, man?” There was a brief pause from the other end of the line, so he said, “Cas?”

“I’m here,” the angel said quickly. “I’m sorry, Sam; I should have told you. I should have told Dean, I…” Cas sighed. “I didn’t want to disrupt Dean, and I admit to a certain desperation for a distraction from the whole atmosphere of the place,” he explained, which translated to Sam as _I didn’t like seeing Dean make an ass of himself trying to prove he’s not jealous._

“It’s all right. I’m not mad at you or anything,” Sam said. The motel was now in view, so he said, ‘Hey, um, I’m almost to the building, so I’m gonna hang up, but when I get there I have some new info on our Deer Lady.”

“Okay,” was Cas’s reply. “See you soon.”

“Bye,” said Sam, and hung up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Terri and Cara were not Dean’s type, he realized for the fiftieth-or-so time. He should have gone for one of those two girls over there by the window. One of them had smooth, shiny black hair and the other one had long sandy hair and freckles. There was a cute redhead in the far corner. Or he could have talked to that girl sitting over at the crowded table—the dainty one with the short black hair. Or…any other women in the building, really.

He wished Sam had made up some excuse for Dean to have to leave with him, because Dean couldn’t really think of one at the moment. He felt these circumstances were somewhat unfair, as all he’d been trying to do was give his angel a shot at the cute bartender.

Wait. Not his angel. _The_ angel. Jesus. 

As soon as they’d all gotten here, Dean had pushed his winged buddy towards Kelsey the Bartender and then promptly left him alone to work his angel charm or whatever. Dean planned to drink with his brother, meanwhile, and survey his good work proudly when Cas scored the bartender’s digits, as he inevitably would because who wouldn’t give Cas their number if he looked at them with those big blue eyes? Or something like that. But Sam had just shot a look at Cas, and then a look at him, as if he was accusing him for something. He then sat with a bunch of strangers and left Dean on his own, because Sam was a tool. 

Dean had sat near Terri and Cara and thought _hey, why not share a little conversation with these people next to me?_ So he’d started a totally normal conversation. It was completely incoccuous. Icnocunous. Innocent. It wasn’t his fault chicks dug him so much. It wasn’t his fault when Terri and Cara began to call him “cutie” and “cupcake” and it certainly wasn’t his fault that they’d kept buying him drinks. 

Something that kind of was his fault, however, was…whatever had been going on over there with Cas and the bartender (Kelsey, he kept reminding himself). He’d never seen the angel (yes, the angel, not his) so at ease with a woman before. It was kind of like running into your teacher in the grocery store: he felt like he’d seen a whole different side of Cas he hadn’t known existed. And the bartender had been like _super_ interested in the stuff he was saying, if her leaning forward to talk to him or sweet smiles were any indication. And they usually were. And Dean hadn’t really been able to blame Kelsey, really, because Cas was great. He was fantastic. Best angel ever, for sure. All the other angels could go home. Except they couldn’t, because Heaven was broken. Man, the world sucked.

Who was this bartender chick anyway? he’d found himself thinking as he watched them (he wasn’t staring, or anything; he just looked over occasionally to check up on Cas, that was all. Cas. _Cc-aaa-sss._ His name even sounded good in his head). She had just… _been_ there one day and all of a sudden, boom, Cas was holding her hands. What had that even been about, huh? Cas never let anyone hold his hands. _He_ never got to hold Cas’s hands, and he’d known Cas, like, _way_ longer. 

And then she’d kissed him! Him, _Dean!_ Like holding Cas’s hands didn’t mean anything at all to her. Like holding hands like a couple of virgins wasn’t super special for the angel, and Dean was pretty sure it was. It was…signicifant, that was the word. Maybe. And who did she think she was, treating Cas like that? Like he was just some guy, instead of the _best_ guy. She wasn’t even _that_ hot, really. But if Cas liked her, he couldn’t really pass judgment, he guessed. Dean had been with plenty of women that even _he_ didn’t like. And speaking of which—

“So, Pete,” cooed Cara, who looked ridiculous now that she’d spilled her drink all over her shirt but who was continuing to make seductive faces at him regardless (at least, Dean assumed they were supposed to be seductive. Sometimes it just looked like she was about to sneeze). “What’re your plans for the rest of the night?” Terri giggled at the question. She giggled too much and it was awful.

Dean cast around mentally for an excuse. He knew what that question meant. “Uh,” he said, real smooth-like. “I’ve actually got a…a thing,” he stammered. Christ, how many drinks had he had? He suddenly wondered if it was more than he thought it was. “I’ll probably stick around till closing, but then I gotta hit the hay.”

“Awwww,” the girls chorused. 

“Should we just go, then?” Terri asked Cara, who scrunched up her face like thinking about an answer was really hard right now. Maybe the wetness of one’s shirt collorated with one’s ability to make decisions. Was that the word? Collorate. Correlrate. Corrlelate. Something like that. Sam would know.

“Yeah I guess,” said Cara, shooting Dean a disappointed glance. Yeah, well, they weren’t the only ones that were disappointed.

“See you, Pete,” Terri said after they’d shrugged on their coats and given Dean their numbers. 

“You ladies stay safe,” he told them, because Dean was a gentleman. 

And then he was alone. Which wasn’t new to him, not really. 

“Dean?” said a voice from further up the bar. It was Kelsey, and she was looking at him with an expression that was vaguely concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said easily. “What’s the matter, did Cas get bored with you?” A part of him was appalled that he’d said that, but the other part didn’t give a shit. 

To his surprise, Kelsey smiled at him. “Maybe he just finds someone else more interesting,” she said crytipally. Crypictly. Mysteriously. 

“Yeah?” he said, his voice a challenge. “Like who?”

She blinked at him, like she wasn’t sure the question really needed to be answered. “Well, like you,” she said. She winked at him. “You were practically all he would talk about.” She paused and considered. “Well, you and your brother,” she amended, “but mostly you.”

“Huh,” he said to that. “Probably complaints,” he muttered.

“On the contrary,” Kelsey said, and what right did she have to sound that chipper at this time of night? “Cas thinks very highly of you.” She giggled. Her giggles were not as annoying as Terri’s, no matter how much Dean wanted them to be. “He talks about you like you’re his hero,” she said, eyes sparkling. At least he hoped they were sparkling. Maybe it was just the lights blurring.

Dean scoffed. “I’m a piss-poor excuse for a hero,” he mumbled, staring at his glass, which had been empty for the past half hour. He looked up at Kelsey pointedly, but she raised her eyebrows in an expression that was uncannily Sam-like and shook her head. Whatever, Dean didn’t need any more anyway. 

Kelsey cleaned off the bar for a while, and there was a long stretch of silence before her voice broke it again. “So, how long are you staying?”

Dean didn’t respond for a moment, assuming she had moved on to a less curdumgenly… cudrugeonly… grumpy patron. But when no one answered, he looked up and asked, “Were you talking to me?”

“Do you see anyone else here?” she replied, and Dean looked around, suddenly realizing that they were the only two left in the bar. It was pitch-black outside. 

“Oh,” Dean said. “Uh, I guess until you kick me out.” 

She laughed, and Dean had never heard anyone’s laughter actually sound like goddamn tinkling bells before but hers kinda did. It was stupid and he didn’t like it. “Well, closing time has officially come and gone, but I like you, so I say you can stay for a while if you don’t mind a chat with me.” 

He made a face at her. “Like me? Why?”

“Because Cas does,” she said, like that was all the explanation needed. And it probably was. 

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “What are we gonna chat about?”

“Please, try to contain your enthusiasm,” Kelsey drawled sarcastically. She shrugged. The movement made some dark brown hair fall over her shoulder. “I dunno. Life. Love. Mexican food.”

“Mexican food sounds good right about now,” Dean admitted.

She snorted. “Yeah, well, good luck finding a place that’s open at this hour around here.” She dragged a stool from the other end of the bar over to where Dean was sitting, and sat down on it so she was facing him with the bar between them. “Okay, I’ll be honest: I want to talk about Cas.”

Great. Now he had to listen to this chick gush about how great his angel was. The angel. Goddamn. “What about him?” Dean said reluctantly, resting his elbows on the bar. 

“How long have you known him?”

His first instinct was to say “Longer than you,” but he figured he’d better be nice if he wanted to keep sitting here for a little while. “Five years,” he said.

She nodded thoughtfully. “I bet you’ve been through a lot together in that time,” she guessed, and _yeah, no shit._

“You could say that.”

She rested her elbows on the bar too, mirroring Dean’s position. “Cas talks about you like you’re the most important thing in the world to him,” she said, and okay, yeah, Dean’s heart gave a stupid little girly flutter at that, but it probably didn’t mean anything. It was gas. Probably.

“Yeah, well, just goes to show you how messed-up his priorities are,” Dean said flatly.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Kelsey, resting her chin in one hand. “The way he sees it, you’re worth it, and he’s probably right.” She was talking about Cas like she knew him. She didn’t, though. Not like Dean did. No one could. No one _should._

He tried to glare at her, but her expression was so kind that he darted his eyes away. There was something piercing in her gaze, something that reminded him uncomfortably of Cas’s. He realized suddenly that he didn’t hate Kelsey. Telling himself he hated her was stupid. This…all right, he’d say it, _jealousy_ was stupid. Everything was stupid. This town was stupid, this case was stupid, this bar was stupid. His big dumb homo crush on his angel best friend was especially stupid. Actually, that one probably won the Stupid Triple Crown for coming in first in all three Stupid races. He’d been doing the world’s shittiest job at pretending that it, the big dumb homo crush, did not exist, and he was the worst. 

“Wow, I think I can actually see a raincloud forming over your head,” Kelsey teased. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m just…I dunno…sorting things out, I guess,” he said, and he wasn’t sure what had compelled him to be honest. Maybe he was just tired of lying. Maybe he just couldn’t do it anymore. 

“So, when I kissed you,” Kelsey said, sitting up, tone all businesslike all of a sudden. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and lifted her chin, regarding him appraisingly. “You said there was someone else. Who is it? What’re they like?”

Dean squinted at her, unsure of her motivations. “Why’s it any of your business?” he said warily.

She smiled. “Well, generally when guys turn me down, I like them to have a pretty solid reason.” 

Dean ran his fingertips up and down his empty glass absentmindedly. Suddenly, almost without thinking about it, he began to answer. “Dark hair," he said, and from there it all came tumbling out. "The bluest eyes you've ever seen,” he continued, “I mean, Crayola has not invented a color for those eyes. And kind of...naiive, I guess. Lets others walk all over. Always tries to do the right thing.” He thought a moment, sliding his glass between both hands so it made a dull shuffling noise. “So stupidly loyal it's led to trouble, and so trusting it’s red to loon. I mean trusting it’s led to ruin.” He wasn’t even sure if he knew what he was saying anymore. “Knows everything about me, and yet for some reason decides I'm worth knowing, worth saving, worth believing in.” His voice had wound down to a quiet murmur. “I don't even deserve to know him."

And then there was a long pause. A very long pause during which Dean froze and stared at his glass and Kelsey blinked in surprise.

“Did…” Kelsey said finally. “Did you say ‘him’?”

“Put these on my brother’s tab,” Dean growled, shoving the glass toward her, and made a run for it.

He needed to shut his mouth sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted in a few days, but let me know what you think of this one in the meantime~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which dishonesty causes problems for everyone. Except Sam. Poor Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CASE STUFF WOOT WOOT
> 
> You should totally analyze the names of our victim and her "friend," and the obvious connotations such a parallel would imply.

The three received a nasty shock the next morning, a phone call from the local police they’d talked to waking them early in the morning. A new body had been discovered—Deer Woman had struck again, it seemed. Sam felt terrible for having been unable to stop it even though they were _right there_ in the area, but at least this particular victim’s case was unique enough to provide them with a whole different perspective. Namely—

“It was a _chick?_ ” Dean repeated for probably the third time, pulling on his dress shoes (or what passed for dress shoes, anyhow). Sam chalked it up to the fact that Dean had clearly had too much to drink last night, coming home much later than Sam or Cas had, ignoring his brother and the angel and the bright motel room light, and only managing to kick off his shoes before collapsing face-down on his bed. Castiel was alarmed when this happened, but Sam had seen this before and had just sighed, shoving his brother so that he was lying on his side instead to ease his breathing. Anyway, Dean was quite groggy this morning, but was actually doing quite well, all things considered.

“Yeah, Dean, for the fiftieth time, it was a chick,” Sam said. He adjusted his tie in the mirror and inspected his overall appearance. Hm. Not bad for a cheap suit.

“I assume you mean a young woman and not a baby bird,” said Castiel from where he was standing at the foot of Dean’s bed. Sam was pretty sure he had been there all night, and it was a good thing Dean had conked out immediately, because otherwise he would have given the angel another lecture on “boundaries” and “things that are and are not creepy” and Sam rolled his eyes at the thought because _he_ didn’t really care if Cas was there while he slept, so why did Dean? Except, y’know, it was totally obvious why he cared.

“That’s a good assumption, Cas,” said Dean, patting him on the shoulder as he passed to pick up his weapons case. The angel smiled and looked pleased at the praise because he still didn’t speak Sarcastic Dick, bless him.

“So I guess our monster likes a little of everything, huh?” Dean added suggestively, leading the way out the door and chuckling. Seriously, it was like he was _twelve_ sometimes.

They all loaded into the sleek black car and set off on their way to check out the scene and then speak to Clarise Evans, the victim’s roommate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clarise Evans also turned out to be the victim’s girlfriend. She was puffy-eyed and tear-streaked when they arrived at her door. “Agents Wright, Warne, and Baker,” said Sam, gesturing to himself and the others as they all held up their badges.

“I still don’t really get why the FBI is here, since the police told me it was a wild animal attack,” Clarise snuffled suspiciously.

“This death was similar to a lot of the others that have been happening in the area recently,” Dean explained, tucking his badge away. “We just want to make sure there isn’t anything else fishy going on.”

Clarise nodded like she’d kind of been expecting that explanation. She ushered them inside, sniffling all the way down the hallway and into the sitting room, where she flung herself onto the couch. The floor around it was littered with rumpled-up tissues. She gestured for them to take the armchair and loveseat opposite her. Sam took the armchair. Dean sat comfortably on the loveseat until Cas squeezed onto it too, at which point he sprang up and decided that he was fine with standing.

“So,” Sam began, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands together. “What can you tell us about Dawn?”

“Sh—she was so good,” said Clarise shakily, lifting a hand to her mouth and pressing against the bottom of her nose as if to stop it from running. “She loved to make people smile, and volunteered at the a-animal shelter, a-and she n-never had a bad word to say about anyone.” Her lip quivered and she pressed her hands to her eyes. She took a deep, shuddery breath. “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I’m n-not going to be much help to you in this state, am I?” She gave them a watery half-smile.

Sam fixed her with a sympathetic expression and held out the flowery box of tissues on the coffee table. “Every little bit helps,” he said gently as Clarise pulled a tissue from the box. He set it back down on the coffee table.

“Th-Thank you,” the girl choked. Her wavy brown hair was a mess, which she hadn’t concealed very well even by wrestling it back into a bun. Her blue eyes looked almost green from all the crying she’d been doing. She blew her nose and took another deep breath. “What else do you want to know?” she said then, and she sounded a little calmer.

“Well, you were the last person to see Dawn alive, as far as we know,” Sam said, his voice soothing. “Can you tell us what she might have been doing alone last night?”

Clarise looked as if she might burst into tears again, but swallowed down the lump in her throat long enough to speak. “Sh-She went to the bar.”

The three of them exchanged glances. That hadn’t been in the police report. “Clarise, did you share that with the local authorities?” Dean said cautiously.

“I-I’m sorry!” Clarise said, looking panicked. “I didn’t want them to think she was just a-another drunk who got herself killed, because she _wasn’t!_ ” Her voice was earnest and her expression desperate. “Dawn hardly _ever_ drinks! Drank,” she corrected herself in a wobbly voice. “I figured I could tell the FBI that, though,” she said, looking around at them all trustingly. Poor thing.

“You said she hardly ever drank,” Dean said. “But she went to the bar last night, and without you, even. Why?”

“Well…” Clarise looked down at her lap. “We had a fight.” She looked up at them again suddenly. “I…I told the police that, though! I didn’t hide that. I have nothing to hide. I wouldn’t kill Dawn,” she finished, her voice breaking on the last part of the sentence. Cas offered her the box of tissues again, and she accepted it with a grateful nod.

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “We believe you,” he said, and he did. “What did you fight about?”

Clarise swallowed again. “What we always fought about: Dawn’s parents.”

“Her parents?” Cas echoed. Sam was proud of him for not having asked any awkward questions yet. The guy was definitely learning.

“Yeah,” said Clarise. “Dawn came from this super-religious family. They grew up in Texas or something and, y’know,” she looked at them meaningfully. “They wouldn’t have been cool with…with Dawn and me.” She stared at her lap again.

“They knew you were roommates, right?” Sam asked, and Clarise nodded.

“That’s what made it so hard. Her parents kept pressuring her to get a boyfriend and settle down, and she never corrected them or, or said anything about it.” She wiped her nose with the latest tissue. “And _I_ couldn’t talk about us either, or they might have found out. I couldn’t even tell _my_ parents. I had to hide it from _everyone,_ except, like, two of my closest friends _.”_

“That must have been hard,” Cas sympathized. Sam made a mental note to tell the angel what a good job he’d done later. When he glanced over, though, he was surprised to see that Castiel was actually leaning forward and listening with real interest, his face suggesting he really did empathize with the poor girl’s plight. Huh.

“It was!” Clarise agreed, her eyes widening. “I mean, we were together for almost _a year._ And I had to keep making excuses to everyone about why I didn’t move out, why we were always hanging around together, why I didn’t find someone _like me.”_ She sniffled. “Do you know what that’s like? Having to justify yourself to everyone for something completely normal and, and decent?”

“Yes,” they all said at once, and then looked surprised at each other.

The girl looked around at them all briefly, but then continued. “Anyway, last night I told her I couldn’t do it anymore. The secrecy, the lies, everything.” She rubbed one puffy eye with the side of her hand. “I said she had to tell her parents about us or I couldn’t bear it any longer. So…she said ‘I guess we’re done then.’ And I said ‘Fine, go ahead and leave.’ A-And she left.” Her face began to crumple up in preparation for more tears. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe the last thing I said to her was ‘Leave.’ I…I didn’t want her to leave.” Her lips shook, and she stared down at her hands, which were twisting in the fabric of her top in her lap.

“Do you have any reason to believe that Ms. Whittaker was being unfaithful?” Cas said then, and wow, Sam took back the part about him doing a good job with the whole being delicate thing.

Clarise looked highly affronted. “No,” she said, looking at Castiel like he’d just asked her if Dawn secretly had gills. “She may have been ashamed of our relationship, but at least she was loyal!” Castiel nodded thoughtfully. Well, it wasn’t the way Sam would have gone about it, but at least they’d gotten the answer they needed. If Dawn hadn’t been unfaithful, why had Deer Woman killed her? He could tell by the look on his brother’s face that he was asking himself the same question.

“And, uh,” Dean said, “which bar did you say Dawn went to?”

“Oh, I didn’t yet,” Clarise admitted. “But, um, I think it must have been Tamara’s Tavern. That’s where we went if we went at all.”

They all exchanged looks. Tamara’s Tavern was the bar they’d been in last night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam found himself in the unusual position of having visited the same bar three nights in a row. He also found himself running into Amy again. She was sitting at the same table she had yesterday, and waved him over cheerfully when she caught his eye. He made his way over to her and sat down.

“Allen!” she said, smiling brightly. She gestured to the guy next to her, who was on the short side, but still taller than Amy’s slight frame. He had brown hair swept to one side and a friendly face. “This is my boyfriend, Mike,” said Amy as Sam nodded to him.

Mike held out his hand for Sam to shake. “Nice to meet you, Allen,” he said, grinning.

“Yeah, you too,” replied Sam, shaking his hand. He would have engaged in some small talk, but he was here to investigate now, not shoot the breeze. He leaned closer to Amy and Mike and spoke quieter. “Listen, I didn’t tell you this yesterday, but I’m actually here undercover on FBI business and I want to ask you some questions,” he confessed, making his face as sincere as possible.

“Get out, dude,” said Mike genially. “FBI guys can’t wear their hair that long!”

Amy hit him lightly on the arm. “I think it looks fine on him.” She shot Sam a challenging smile. “FBI, huh?” she said. “Prove it.”

Sam sighed. Luckily he’d come prepared. He looked around surreptitiously and then held up his badge for them to see. “Allen Wright,” Mike read off. “Huh.”

“I knew it!” Amy burst out excitedly. “You kept asking all those questions about Deer Woman and like, you were super interested in the deaths around here and all!” Mike looked at her dubiously, like her supposed long-held suspicions were news to him. Amy looked around as if suddenly realizing that she needed to be quieter. “So, Mr. Wright,” she said, “What do you need to know?”

“Well,” said Sam, “you heard about the death that occurred late last night, right?”

“Yeah, word travels fast,” Mike said, nodding.

“Well it turns out that the victim was at this bar earlier that evening.”

Amy looked horrified and held a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “That’s crazy.” She bit her lip. “But, like, wasn’t the death supposed to be a wild animal thing? Unless…” Her eyes popped open wide. “Ohmygod, is the FBI actually investigating _Deer Woman_ as a suspect?!”

Sam offered her a wry smile. “Honestly, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve come across,” he admitted.

Amy was flip-flopping between looking like her dreams had come true and looking like she’d heard a noise while home alone. “I can’t believe this. But at the same time, I’m not surprised, because I _knew_ Deer Woman was real. We both did,” she added with a glance at Mike. She paused. “Wait, you said ‘we’!” Are there more FBI guys here?” She suddenly started looking around, like she could pick out feds Where’s Waldo-style.

“Amy, chill,” muttered Mike. “You’ll blow his cover.” Amy smiled sheepishly and tried visibly to relax.

“Let’s assume Deer Woman _is_ real,” Sam said, bringing the couple back to attention. “Why do you think this time was so different? I mean, the victim was a woman this time, and supposedly she wasn’t unfaithful.”

“Mike’s more into the legends than I am,” Amy said proudly, looking up at Mike next to address him. “You’d probably provide a better answer than I could.”

“Uh, well,” said Mike, clearly a bit uncomfortable at having been put in the spotlight. “Some versions of the story focus more on the dishonesty part than the lust part. Although from what I understand that part is usually still a factor.”

“Dishonesty part?” Sam repeated, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

“Yeah, like, some versions say that she appears before people who are dishonest in love. They don’t necessarily have to be cheaters or lechers, I guess,” Mike responded. He shrugged. “I wish I could be more specific, man.”

“No, that’s all right,” Sam said eagerly. This was a new spin he hadn’t heard before. “So she goes after people who lie to or about their lovers?”

“Yeah, except…” Mike paused to sip his drink. “I don’t even think it means she pursues them or anything. She just…appears to them.” He looked at Sam meaningfully. “Like, _only_ to them.”

Sam thought about this. “Are you suggesting that only people who are dishonest in love _are able_ to see her?”

Mike leaned back in his chair and shrugged again, crossing his arms. “I’m not saying it’s true,” he admitted. “I’ve just heard it told that way a couple times. The stories are so varied that no one can even agree on what kind of clothes she wears, so I wouldn’t set much stock in any one particular account.” He used a napkin to soak up the ring of condensation around his glass, seemingly to give him something to do with his hands.

“You sound like you believe it, though,” Sam observed. “Hey, uh, Amy mentioned yesterday that you two had seen Deer Woman yourselves,” he suddenly remembered. “Did you two fit those criteria? Is that why you believe that version?”

Amy and Mike exchanged slightly uncomfortable glances.

“We, uh,” started Amy, and then looked at Mike for backup.

“I was dating her best friend at the time,” Mike finally confessed, running a hand through his hair.

“And I was seeing _his_ best friend,” Amy finished with a grimace.

“So what was it like?” Sam pressed them excitedly. If he found their testimony reliable, he had two survivors right here! Surely that would prove useful _somehow._

Amy puffed out her cheeks and blew her breath out in a loud sigh. “We had been seeing each other for a couple weeks, and we just went for a walk one night—we took our friend Gary with us; he didn’t know about us— and we saw this weird woman with dark hair by the side of the road.”

“She looked like a Native American,” Mike recalled, picking up the story. “Wearing, like, stereotypical tribal jewelry. And she just asked us, ‘How can you find happiness with each other while you continue to lie and deceive?’ which we thought was pretty freakin’ weird, frankly—”

“Right, I almost forgot she even spoke!” interjected Amy. “Anyway, Gary was totally confused why we’d just…stopped in our tracks. And then I just happened to look down at that moment and…” She looked reluctant, but when Sam raised his eyebrows and leaned further in, she finally blurted, “I saw her hooves, okay? They were little deer hooves and I screamed and pointed and Mike yelled and Gary was startled out of his mind and she just…” she whisked her hand in a sweeping gesture. “She just got the heck out of there, and so did we.”

“On the bright side, we both broke up with the person we were dating the next day, so at least we didn’t _stay_ liars and deceivers,” Mike finished with a slightly guilty expression.

“So Gary didn’t see the woman? Or hear her?” said Sam.

“No!” confirmed Amy, eyes wide. “We were like, ‘How could you miss her, she was right there’ and he just looked at us like we were nuts!”

“Have you ever told anyone else this story?” was Sam’s next question.

“Well, yeah,” answered Amy, “we told anyone who would listen for a few weeks, but even though everyone pretended to believe us, it was pretty clear they didn’t. Not even Gary believed it, and he’d _been_ there. So after a while, we just didn’t tell it anymore. I still tell everyone that I know Deer Woman’s real, though. I know what I saw.” She crossed her arms and nodded resolutely.

Sam’s brain was buzzing with all the new information. He figured he should report back to his brother and Cas with the update, so he thanked them sincerely for sharing their story and excused himself from the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel was not surprised to find himself here again, staring into his glass and wondering how much further he could screw things up. They’d come here to investigate, but he’d only made a few cursory attempts to engage the strangers here. The truth was, he still didn’t feel all that comfortable talking to humans unless one he already knew was present.

Speaking of humans he already knew, the conversation he’d just had with Dean had gone swimmingly (he found the sarcasm thing oddly satisfying). Despite his behavior last night, Dean seemed to have forgotten any and all tension between the two of them and had been treating Castiel with fondness and even courtesy all day. It was like he’d made up his mind about something, but as usual, the angel was left in the dark about just what that was. Castiel was caught between irritation that the hunter was still clueless about the impact his actions had on him, and gratefulness that Dean was treating him without the forced amiability and informality that he had exhibited yesterday. Dean had helped Castiel fix his tie (the angel was reminded of the time he’d told him that “When humans want something really, really bad…they lie”), let him sit in the front passenger seat, and offered him some of his French fries (Castiel refused them). He hadn’t been sure _what_ Dean was up to, but considering how he’d been flirting with those women last night, Castiel had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what Dean had been up to _then._

So when Dean had approached him at the bar and started with “Listen, Cas, I know we need to do some work, but I just wanted to talk to you about last night,” Castiel hadn’t really wanted to hear it.

“Dean, I don’t care who you have intercourse with,” he’d said bluntly. Dean’s face had quickly shown his surprise and confusion, and the angel had felt guilty for the lie almost immediately. “What I mean is, I’m glad you’re…taking some time for yourself,” he’d invented quickly then, “but providing me with the details is unnecessary.”

“That’s not it,” Dean had protested. “I figured something out last night and I just –”

“We have a case to work,” Castiel had growled then. “I’m sure whatever epiphany you had can wait.”

The naked hurt etched all over Dean’s face had been painful to look at, so the angel had looked away. The hunter’s expression had quickly hardened into one of resentment, even anger. “Fine,” he snapped. “I’m sure you have to get back to hanging out with your new best friend Kelsey anyway. Who cares.” He’d then turned on his heel and stomped away.

Castiel had been left there wondering what he’d just done.

So that was how he’d come to be here, wallowing again in his shame. He would never get the hang of these feelings, it seemed. He chatted with Kelsey a while, but avoided the topic of Dean, though his eyes flickered in the older Winchester’s direction now and then. He was sitting with a pretty girl at a table in the corner. The girl had long, shiny black hair and tan skin, and she was beautiful. Typical. He might have been imagining it, but occasionally he thought he saw the girl giving him knowing smirks, which did not improve the angel’s mood.

Castiel told himself that letting Dean go was best for everyone involved, and got back to telling Kelsey quietly his account of the fall of the Roman Empire. She was a very good listener.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rejection was not something that Dean Winchester was overly familiar with.

Okay, so Cas hadn’t exactly _rejected_ him. He’d shut him down before he could even get a word in, which was actually worse. Unless Dean was just _really_ bad at reading angels (which was possible), he’d thought Cas might…that for a long time…

Goddamn, he was like a freaking middle school girl. All he needed was a daisy so he could play _He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not._ He’d tried to put it out of his mind and had looked for a place to sit that was angel- and brother-free, because he still had a job to do, and since the job was apparently the only thing that made sense in his life, he was going to do it. He’d interviewed everyone who he’d seen at the bar last night (Terri and Cara were thankfully absent today), but no one could tell him anything about Dawn Whittaker other than that she didn’t come often, she was a nice girl, she’d been looking pretty sad yesterday, and she’d left by herself at around 11. He was about to go scope out the table in the corner, because they looked comfortable in the environment and maybe he’d missed seeing their faces last night. Maybe they’d have more information.

However, at that moment, Sam popped over and told him a story about Deer Lady that was a little different from any of the others he’d ever seen online. Sam seemed to trust his new friends’ testimony, and it sounded plausible to Dean, so he agreed that their method of approach should be altered. They’d listen carefully to the people in the bar and follow anyone who seemed like they were shifty about something. When you lied for a living, you got freakishly good at sniffing out lies other people told. Hopefully they’d catch Deer Lady in the act and save Mr. (or Ms., he reminded himself) Pants-on-Fire in the process. Sam went off to go tell Cas about the development, and left Dean to continue eavesdropping in peace.

His eyes happened to fall upon a brunette the next table over, and he listened in that direction.

“So spill! I’m tired of you keeping this from me!” her auburn-haired friend was encouraging her eagerly, and hm, that sounded promising. If secrets were involved, lies probably were too. The brunette shook her head reluctantly. “Come _onnnnnn,_ Casey. _Pleeeeeease?_ ” her friend pleaded, sticking out her lower lip in a pout and fluttering her eyelashes comically.

“Okay, fine,” said the brunette, who was apparently named Casey. “I do like him, but he has a girlfriend, so I’m backing off.”

Her friend giggled at the admission and patted Casey on the back. “Brave of you to admit it. Now let’s go find you another guy, one who’s unattached!” Well, Dean guessed Casey wasn’t the dishonest type.

He trained his ears in the direction of a couple sitting behind him. A careful glance revealed them to be a tall sandy-haired man and a curvy woman with skin the color of warm cocoa. They were holding hands over the table, like this was a candlelit dinner instead of a drink in a tiny, run-down bar. They spoke quietly to one another, but Dean just barely managed to make out the words:

“I like it here, but you know my mother isn’t well,” said the man, his voice gentle. “It would really mean a lot to me if you’d consider moving down with me. We could get an apartment; I’ve been saving up.”

“I know,” the woman sighed, and Dean saw with another quick peek that she was stroking her thumb over his hand. “I’m kind of afraid to leave my job, but they said they might be able to secure an interview down there for me, so I guess there’s really nothing keeping me here.” She paused, and when she continued, her voice was warm. “Okay. Let’s move to Florida.”

Dean’s eyes darted to them for just long enough to see the man kissing her hand and regarding her with adoration. Geez, these two were like a freaking Hallmark movie, and neither of them seemed the least bit dishonest or sneaky about their relationship. He focused elsewhere.

His gaze caught on a girl sitting by herself in one of the corners. She had long, shiny black hair, smooth tan skin, and the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen. The latter were swollen now, though, since the girl was crying. Dean frowned. He was working a case, but this girl was all alone and she looked pretty distressed. He couldn’t very well just _leave_ her like that, could he?

He shouldered his way over to her, almost tripping on one of the legs of the pool table, and gave her a reassuring smile. “This seat taken?” he asked, pointing to the chair next to her. She looked up at him with those shiny brown eyes, but shook her head, so Dean sat. “So,” he began, clasping his hands on the table and leaning slightly forward over the table to look at her. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here sitting alone and looking so sad?”

The barest of smiles flickered across her face, and Dean felt heartened by his apparent success. “I’m…this is my first night out since my boyfriend dumped me,” she said timidly, wiping her eyes. “I told myself it was time to move on, but it’s turning out to be harder than I thought it would be.” Dean felt his heart instantly soften for her. Who would dump such a beautiful girl? It was a waste, that’s what it was. His eyes darted to her wrist as she dried her eyes. It sported a purple discoloration.

“What did you do to your wrist?” he asked, concerned.

She looked at the spot he indicated quickly and then hid it by crossing her arms at her waist, hugging herself and looking very small. “I…I don’t want to talk about it, if that’s okay,” she said sadly, and Dean had a horrible feeling he knew what had happened.

“Was it your boyfriend? Did he hurt you?” he asked gently, and she fidgeted a bit before nodding slowly. Dean felt anger swell within him at the slimeball who’d injured her. How could anyone do that? “Well, don’t worry about that dick anymore, okay?” he assured her, and she looked up at him questioningly. “You seem like a really nice girl and you deserve a guy who’ll treat you well.”

She smiled at him then, and he smiled back. “I’m Dean,” he told her. It felt wrong to give a false name to someone who’d just shared such personal information with him. “What’s your name?”

“Dyani,” she answered. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Dean told her, and her smile brightened even more. She had such a beautiful smile. He gestured to the turquoise necklace she was wearing. “That’s pretty, too,” he said.

She looked down at it and ran her fingers over it almost as if she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “Oh—thank you. They’re popular around here.”

“Not as popular as _you_ should be,” he said with a wink. A tiny giggle finally escaped Dyani, and Dean felt himself smile widely in return. This, _this_ was what he was missing, Dean thought. A beautiful woman. A conversation that didn’t involve monsters. He felt all his worries drain away. Yeah, he could definitely lose himself in this woman’s eyes, he thought.

As he kept talking to Dyani, Dean told himself that he didn’t need Cas at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was trying not to think about the train wreck that was the relationship between his brother and his brother’s angel. No amount of gentle nudging (or not-so-gentle shoving) from Sam seemed to make a difference to either of them, so he resigned himself to have to put up with another night of those two shooting longing glances at each other while they both talked to women. Honestly.

He snooped around and eavesdropped for two hours, which was excruciatingly boring (especially after Amy and Mike left) and unfruitful. Everyone in the bar seemed content or at least open with their whole love situation as far as he could tell, which was mega weird in his opinion, seeing as to how it was a _bar._ But hey, things were different here, he guessed. A woman with hooves _was_ currently running around, after all.

After a while, he began to feel like he was wasting time here. He was starting to get antsy—what if Deer Woman was stalking her next victim right at this moment, and they were here eavesdropping on people while someone got deer-riverdanced to death?

And so Sam Winchester went to go find his brother and tell him that this exercise was pointless and their time would be better utilized elsewhere.

Only he couldn’t find Dean anywhere.                                                                                           

He wasn’t where he’d been sitting the past two hours. He wasn’t with Cas. He wasn’t hitting on girls or even in the bathroom, and when he tried his brother’s cell phone, he got his voicemail. Sam sighed as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and made his way over to Castiel. Better at least ask the angel before he started freaking out about anything.

“Hey, Cas?” he said, and Castiel turned on his stool to face him after giving the bartender a quick “Excuse me for a moment, Kelsey”. He looked at Sam expectantly.

“Uh, you haven’t seen Dean anywhere the past couple minutes, have you?” the younger Winchester asked.

Cas shook his head. “I have not,” he said, and there was something of a defensive tone in there. “Contrary to popular belief, it is not my job to keep constant tabs on your brother.”

Whoa. Where had _that_ come from? “I know it’s not,” he told the angel, “but I can’t find him anywhere and I could use your help.”

Castiel heaved a huge sigh. “Last I saw of him, he was talking to an attractive woman in that corner,” he said, inclining his head in that direction. “If Dean has disappeared in the past few hours, it is probably because he is having relations with her somewhere.”

Sam’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. He hadn’t heard Cas sound so bitter and disgusted towards Dean since the Apocalypse was bearing down on them and it looked like Dean had given up on stopping it. He briefly considered what Cas had said, but quickly decided it was unlikely. “I know I give him grief about it, but the truth is he hasn’t done that while we’re on a case in a really long time,” said Sam. Cas merely lifted his chin and continued to look grumpy, so Sam sighed and ruffled his mane of hair nervously. “Look, he’s not answering his phone and I didn’t see him leave, alright?” he said, a note of pleading sneaking into his voice. “So whatever crap you two have going on between you right now, I’d really like you to help me find my brother.”

A bit of worry finally came over the angel’s face, and he looked a little ashamed that he’d said such petty things. Sam didn’t hold it against him. Dean probably deserved to have Cas be a little suspicious of him, after all he’d put the angel through. “Of course,” Cas said finally, and _there_ he was, good old Castiel. “What should we do?”

Sam walked right up to the bar and cleared his throat. “Hey, um…Kelsey?” he ventured. That had been the name, right?

Sure enough, the bartender turned to face him. She smiled. “Hello!” she answered. “Can I get you anything?”

“Uh, no, no thanks,” he said quickly. “But, um, you’ve worked here a long time, haven’t you?”

“Six years,” she said.

“So you probably know everyone who comes in and out of here, don’t you?” Sam asked next.

She rested a hand on one hip in a cocky pose. “Sure do,” she confirmed. “I know their faces, their names, and their favorite drinks.”

Sam felt a little hope well up inside him. “Did you happen to see my brother leave?”

“Dean?” Kelsey asked, and Sam didn’t have to ask how she knew Dean’s name, since Cas had been talking to her the past three nights. She nodded. “I did, actually!”

“Fantastic!” said Sam, a wave of relief flowing over him. “Can you, uh, do you know the girl he was sitting with?”

Kelsey’s brow furrowed and she gave him an odd look. “I’ve been keeping tabs on him this whole time,” she said. Her worried eyes searched over his face, as if she was going to ask if he needed to lie down or something. “Sam,” she said slowly, “Dean has been sitting alone all evening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUM BUM BUMMMMM sorry that's not very professional of me AHEM now for serious comments:
> 
> Dawn and Dyani actually made an appearance last chapter. See if you can spot them! 
> 
> If it wasn't totally blindingly obvious, "Clarise" and "Dawn" are both only one letter different from scrambled versions of "Castiel" and "Dean." Also, "Evans" sounds like "Evangelist" which has "angel" in it, and "Whittaker" sounds like "Winchester." Both also have the same hair color (and eye color in Clarise's case, freckles in Dawn's case) as their male counterparts. I THINK TOO MUCH ABOUT THESE THINGS
> 
> Team Free Will's agent surnames are all from the band Kansas. AUTHENTICITY
> 
> You should totally look up the meaning of Dyani's name, too, if you like being hit over the head with hints. 
> 
> Ready for the monster confrontation next time?? Too bad. I'm not posting til Tuesday. :) Leave me reviews in the meantime (pretty please?)!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean dances with a deranged demi-deer dame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've ever written a case, so I hope all that buildup was worth it in this chapter. I also hope it was worth waiting until 9 o'clock for. Mwahaha. ;)

“You can pull over here,” Dyani said.

“Sure, okay,” Dean complied, pulling the Impala over by the side of the road, “but why? This can’t be where you live.” He’d offered the poor girl a ride home after she confessed to being frightened to go home alone, what with everything that had been happening.

“It isn’t,” Dyani agreed softly. “But I just…wanted to stop with you for a minute.” She bit her lip. Her already-dark eyes were even more so, her pupils dilated wide to take in what little light remained outside. The effect was extraordinarily attractive. “Is that okay?” she whispered, flickering her gaze up to meet his.

Dean felt his heart do a flip-flop. She was incredible, amazing, fantastic. He didn’t know how he’d lived so long without someone like her. “Yeah, it’s…it’s okay,” he found himself saying, tone quiet to match hers. Whatever she wanted, he would do his best to give it to her.

She smiled at him. Dean felt like he was glowing inside. If she smiled at him like that, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. “The stars are beautiful, aren’t they?” Dyani sighed, leaning back in the front passenger seat.

“Not as beautiful as you are,” he said, and to him nothing had ever been more true.

She looked at him for a long moment then, Dean feeling himself drawn into those eyes.

When their lips met, it was like lightning. Dean shuddered with the intensity of it, and she drew him closer. A small, quiet part of him wondered if this was very wise, but right now his pounding heartbeat was drowning out all his doubts. He felt like he was melting into her kiss.

“Dean,” she whispered, pulling back. “I…I feel so alone, all the time. Will you stay with me tonight? Under the stars?”

“Yes,” he assured her, almost before she’d finished speaking, and her answering smile was enough to tell him that it was the right answer. She kissed him again just as his phone went off in his pocket. He extricated himself from her and brought out the phone, but Dyani laid a hand on top of his.

“Please, can’t it wait?” she said, and she sounded so sweet he couldn’t help freezing when she touched him, even as the phone continued to play the first few bars of “Smoke on the Water.” She grasped his hand and looked into his eyes. “I need you,” Dyani confessed earnestly, her eyes so large and beseeching and beautiful.

He took her hand in his and smiled at her in answer. A mischievous glint came into her big brown eyes and she suddenly giggled, opening her door and running over to his side to pull him out of the car by the hand. “Come dance with me,” she said invitingly.

“Sure,” he said immediately. She giggled again and tugged on his hand. Dean chuckled as she led him away further off the road.

His phone rang in the driver’s seat, abandoned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It _was_ beside _this_ road that all the other murders occurred, right?” Castiel asked as they drove along in their stolen red Ford Focus. Dean had taken the Impala, of course.

“Yeah, that’s what the police said in all the reports,” confirmed Sam, speeding up slightly. Castiel knew that he was looking for the familiar black shape that was Dean’s car. The angel craned his neck to look, too, but it was no use. The wooded area was on Sam’s side of the road, and it was too dark to see much of anything from his position.

Castiel’s thoughts were racing. If their suspicions were correct and the Deer Woman had taken Dean, they did not have much time before Dean became totally unreachable under her spell. The fact that Sam would not be able to see the monster was also not encouraging. Sam had stuck some tobacco leaves in his shirt pocket just in case that morning, and they both knew the chant that would incapacitate her by heart, but the angel only hoped they would not arrive too late.

Sam glanced over at him briefly. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “We’ll find him.” Castiel was grateful to have a friend like Sam.

Suddenly, the younger Winchester slammed on the breaks, sending them both pitching forward before their seatbelts flung them back against their seats. “There!” Sam exclaimed, pointing at a vague shadowy outline off the road. “That’s the Impala, I know it is!” He quickly pulled over as well, and they both sprang out of the car, barely remembering to slam their doors behind them before investigating the other car. It was indeed Dean’s Baby, as he called it, and Dean’s cell phone was lying in the front seat, which was not an encouraging sign.

“ _Dean!_ ” Sam immediately yelled into the woods, cupping his hands around his mouth. His voice echoed slightly, but there was no reply. “Hold on! We’re coming, Dean!” he shouted to his brother, and they both took off into the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on,” coaxed Dyani, pulling him into a clearing. The moonlight was bright, shining off the tall grass and making her eyes sparkle. He was totally entranced, and he let her tug him along. He watched her spin and pivot gracefully, her movements spritely and mesmerizing. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. When she laughed joyfully and spun them both around, her hands holding his, she was the only thing in the world to him.

She gradually stopped spinning, and panted slightly, a bright smile on her face. He watched her saunter closer and slide her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. She kissed him, and Dean felt his knees go weak. He was hardly surprised at all when she pushed him down on the ground and toppled after. He kept kissing her, her black hair falling in moonlight-bright curtains and framing her perfect face. She rose up on her knees and peered down at him. The moon surrounded her head like a ghostly halo.

And then she began to dance as he lay there enraptured, and if sharp bursts of pain began to rain down on him, on his chest and his stomach and his knees and collarbones, Dean hardly noticed them. He could stay with Dyani like this forever, watching her dance by the light of the moon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“DEAN!” Cas heard Sam’s voice from the distance. They’d split up to cover more ground, and Cas wished desperately that he could just fly straight to Dean as he would once have been able to. He called out the hunter’s name again as loudly as he could, shoving branches and weeds as high as his waist aside as he went. He’d already torn his pants in several places on broken branches and sharp thorns in his haste, and he suspected he was bleeding, but he had no time to inspect now, and anyway, what did it matter when Dean’s life was at stake? The angel kept shouting Dean’s name, each time a little more desperate and each time with a little more dread seizing him inside. Was this really how Dean would die? he thought wildly, as an errant twig sliced open his palm when he flung it aside. After he’d watched the hunter evade death in nearly every possible way, was this how he’d meet his end? Trampled to death in a tiny town in Oklahoma? Killed before Castiel could tell him that Dean meant everything to him?

He refused to let that be the case. He would find Dean. He _had_ to.

He paused suddenly in his pursuit, his human body’s pulse pounding in his ears almost too loudly to listen properly. He was sure he’d heard something. A grunt, and then the sound of a blow landing. He shoved his way in that direction, where it looked like the trees thinned out ahead.

The sight that met his eyes when he burst out of the undergrowth and into the moonlit clearing made his insides feel like they had turned to ice. Dean was indeed there, laying on his back on the ground, and the girl, the girl from the bar, she was pelting him with blows of her feet, her movements like a dancer’s, but with so much more anger than a dancer’s. He wondered why Dean didn’t defend himself, but then realized quickly it must have been the aphrodisiac-like effect that the Deer Woman had on her victims. Castiel rushed forward, but soon came across a resistance, like an invisible wall. She’d put up a barrier.

The Deer Woman had spotted him. She smirked at him, enjoying the fact that Castiel was forced to just stand there, yards away, unable to do anything. “Hello, angel,” she purred, settling a foot on either side of Dean’s body. Castiel gritted his teeth in anger as she lifted one leg up, which ended in a graceful yet wicked-looking hoof. “Come to see the show?”

“NO!” Castiel cried as she brought the hoof down sharply right below Dean’s ribs. Dean’s breath left him in a wheeze, and still he looked up at her adoringly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, a hoof-shaped bruise visible even in the dark blooming on his forehead. Castiel’s stomach churned. “Let him go,” he growled, trying to sound as menacing as possible. If only his powers weren’t so weakened, he could fly right to the center of her barrier and finish her off in seconds.

The Deer Woman pretended to consider his suggestion for a moment. “Hmm…” she said, tapping her finger against her chin. “Nah,” she said a moment later, and stomped on Dean’s wrist next. Castiel winced at the horrible crunching sound it had made. “It’s okay,” she told the angel in a mock-soothing tone. “He’s fine with it.” She tilted her head and smiled down at the broken figure beneath her. An answering smile twisted one half of Dean’s swollen face, but he just made a labored gurgling sound in response, his Adam’s apple bobbing ineffectually. “See?” the Deer Woman said, looking back up at Castiel smugly.

“SAM!” Castiel shouted as loudly as he could muster. “HE’S OVER HERE! SHE’S GOT HIM! THERE’S A BARRIER AND I CAN’T GET THROUGH!” He realized his hands were shaking—with adrenaline or fear for Dean he didn’t know—and clenched them into fists.

“I’M ON MY WAY!” Sam yelled back from a distance away. Castiel glared at the monster, since it was all he could do. Sam was the one with the tobacco leaves, after all.

The Deer Woman laughed, crushing Dean’s kneecap under one slowly twisting hoof. “You do realize it’s pointless?” she taunted. “Even if you could get through my barrier, Dean is all mine.” She looked down at him again. “Aren’t you, baby?” she cooed. Dean nodded dumbly, and a wave of blinding rage swept over Castiel. He tightened his fists, and his blunt nails began to cut into his palms.

“Dean,” he said, his voice loud and firm. “If you can hear me, listen. You need to look down. You need to look at her feet, Dean; you don’t really love her. Dean!”

“It’s kind of precious that you still want to save him even after he broke your heart,” the Deer Woman mused, pausing her assault for a moment. “I don’t really get it. Isn’t this justice for you?”

“Your years have twisted you,” the angel spat. “I will always want to save Dean!” Not wanting to waste any more words on her, he tried again. “DEAN! Listen! _Look at her feet!_ ” he called again. “You _don’t really love her,_ Dean! She’s a monster!”

“How rude,” pouted the Deer Woman. She stepped on Dean’s fingers almost absentmindedly. “Maybe after I’m through with Dean I should teach _you_ some manners.”

“Go to hell,” growled Castiel, because it was what Dean would have said if he could.

Not a minute too soon, Sam arrived on the scene, stumbling out of the brush and panting. Some twigs were still caught in his hair. “Dean!” he shouted, horrified at the picture before him. His wide eyes darted from Dean to Castiel. “Is she there?” he asked urgently. “Can you see her?”

“She’s there,” the angel confirmed. “But unless we can get through to Dean, I don’t think the chant will be effective in incapacitating her. She’s been feeding off Dean’s love; she’s…she’s too powerful.” He darted his eyes to look at Dean. Thankfully, the Deer Woman had ceased her violence for the moment, watching Castiel and Sam with mild interest.

“What are you two whispering about over there?” she teased. “Talking about how you’re going to go about killing me? You might as well give up.” She kicked Dean’s leg carelessly. “I’ve been draining him for a while now. He’s almost all tapped out.” Her gaze rose to meet Castiel’s, and she smiled wickedly. “He sure had a lot of love to give, though,” she said, a smug lilt in her voice, “for someone who was already so broken.”

“Dean!” Sam shouted over her, inferring from Castiel’s steely, fixed glare that the Deer Woman was talking. He took a few steps forward, only to encounter the resistance of the barrier. The younger Winchester spoke louder, resigning himself to using his voice alone. “Listen, man, you’ve gotta snap out of it! It’s Sam! Dean, she’s a monster! Look down at her hooves!” Dean made no reply. He groaned as the Deer Woman walked over his body, laughing a laugh that was far too beautiful for an abomination like her, but the hunter made no move to resist. Patches of red were blooming in several places on his flannel shirt.

“Dean,” Castiel croaked, his heart—what passed for a heart—clenching painfully. “Please, please listen to me. It’s Castiel.” He swallowed. “It’s Cas. She doesn’t love you. Dean, you _have_ to look down. Look down, and _fight_ this!”

The Deer Woman rolled her eyes. “This is getting maudlin,” she sighed. “If it’s all the same to you guys, I’m gonna go ahead and finish up here.” Sam was shouting over her the whole time she spoke, but Dean made no reply. His breaths were labored and wheezy, and Castiel wondered how many of his ribs were broken.

“DEAN!” Castiel yelled desperately, his voice on the verge of breaking. “PLEASE!”

None of them expected the small, choked mutter of “Cas?” that came next, especially not the Deer Woman. Her face contorted in a snarl, her rapidly darting eyes betraying her confusion and panic.

“Dean, yes, it’s me!” said Castiel, pushing against the barrier uselessly. “Dean, it’s all fake! She doesn’t love you and she’s _killing_ you! Look down! Look at her hooves!”

“Hooves?” The whisper was almost inaudible, but the angel heard it, and so did Sam, apparently, if his looking from Dean to Cas in wonder was any indication.

The Deer Woman screeched in fury, livid that anything could get through to Dean even now. “Stop it!” she said shrilly. “ _Shut up!_ ” The angel shouted Dean’s name, his heartbeat loud in his ears, and Dean twisted around feebly on the ground.

“Keep talking to him!” the younger Winchester urged, and Castiel did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean felt as if he were having a very strange dream. Dyani had been dancing above him, and he watched, his ears ringing so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else. His mind had been a haze, a euphoric blur, and though he felt as if he were slowly shattering under the weight of his love for her, it hadn’t bothered him at all. He had smiled up at her beatifically and let himself drift, offering up all his love to her.

Then something very strange had happened. He had heard a sound, a sound that was very familiar. Was it a voice? Yes, it must have been. It must have been someone he knew, because his heart had given a little jolt as if in response. Dean had tried to hear past the ringing in his ears, tried to focus on that sound, and he had heard, so faintly it might not have even been there:

_“DEAN!”_

Was that—

 _“PLEASE!”_ the voice had said.

“Cas?” he had managed to get out, his mouth moving almost independently of its own will, responding without thought. _Cas,_ he had thought vaguely, yes, Cas, the word sounded familiar. Slowly, the idea of _Cas_ had begun to trickle into the back of his mind, and he’d found his thoughts seizing on the familiar territory like a lifeline. What had Cas been doing here?

Dean had become suddenly aware that he couldn’t move, and had suddenly found that this was not ideal.

 _“Dean, it’s all fake!”_ Cas’s voice had brushed over him gently, like a breeze that hardly even manages to ruffle your hair. _“She doesn’t love you and she’s killing you!_ ” Killing him? What a strange idea. Almost as strange as the idea that Dyani did not love him, for he’d known with all of his being that she did. _“Look down!”_ Cas’s voice had come next. _“Look at her hooves!”_

 _Hooves?_ Dean had thought dully, and his mouth formed the word, too, because what an absurd idea _that_ was. All the same, though, he had hoped Cas would keep talking to him. He’d wanted to go back to dreaming, and the angel’s voice had been a welcome sound. But he’d sounded distressed, Dean had realized. Why? Was he in trouble? The idea had distressed him, and he found himself wanting to spring into action.

Movement had proven very difficult so far, though. Pain exploded throughout every inch of his body, the sensations suddenly coming on sharp and too-bright to his dulled senses, waking him up, like a cold bucket of water. He heard someone screaming—a female voice. She sounded angry. Scared, too.

 _“Dean, look at her hooves!”_ Cas’s voice reminded him. _“You don’t really love her!”_

Dean managed to tilt his chin down and focus his eyes.

He realized with an abrupt shock that Dyani had hooves, and suddenly he was wide awake. Everything rushed in on him at once: the breeze on his sore face; his limbs lying at his sides, nothing but heavy dead weight; the air rushing into his lungs in rasping, painful breaths; Cas and Sam shouting for him, pleading for him to snap out of it; and Dyani, standing above him, her face not nearly so beautiful now as she screeched in an attempt to drown out their voices.

“Sammy,” he croaked. “Cas.”

“Dean!” Sam yelled. “You’ll be all right! Keep looking at her hooves!” Dean obeyed without question, though it was very hard to keep his eyes on them, since she was stamping them about furiously.

“I don’t get it!” she wailed, delivering a sharp kick to his side, and okay, _ouch,_ that suddenly hurt like a _bitch_. “Why does the angel still love you?! Why can he still get through to you when you’re supposed to be completely unreachable?! You’re supposed to _love me!_ ” She kept kicking him, a squeal of “ _Why?!”_ punctuating every starburst of pain behind his eyes. Every part of his body felt broken or bruised or sore, most likely because they were. What was this bitch even screaming about? Castiel didn’t love him, not as far as he knew. She was totally nuts. Nevertheless, he had a job to do, and like hell was he going to let some bitch with hooves stomp him like the world’s most handsome pancake. He groaned and managed to haul himself over onto his side.

“Dean!” said Cas’s voice brokenly, and there was so much raw emotion in it, so much relief and worry and wonder and _love,_ just as it had been when he’d been trying to get through to him so desperately, and _oh,_ Dean thought absently. Maybe Deer Lady wasn’t so nuts about that after all. This was no time to think about it, though.

“No!” Dyani said frantically, terror making her voice even shriller. “Don’t move! _Stop moving!_ ” He thought that was a dumb suggestion, so he kept moving, thanks, and miraculously, he stumbled to his feet, feeling like a feather could knock him over, vision briefly blurring from pain. He glared defiantly, though, and wiped at the blood oozing from his mouth with one hand.

“Not gonna happen, you antlered asshole,” he mumbled, and _ouch,_ speaking _really fucking hurt._

“Sam, the barrier,” Cas said quickly. “It’s gone. Dean’s broken it.”

“Right,” said Sam, and Dean managed to turn his head (freaking _ow_ ) in time to see his brother light up those leaves and chant like a goddamn champ. The hooved whore howled and sank to her knees, then curled up on her side in the fetal position, suddenly small and weak like she might have been when she was human.

Suddenly, Cas was at his side, staring down at Dyani with an emotionless expression that was a little spooky. Dean thought he was maybe going to bust out a pre-gank one-liner, but no, he just lunged forward and stabbed her in the heart with the angel blade, which had been sprinkled with the tobacco leaf ashes, twisting the hilt sharply once before pulling it back. She made a hideous squealing sound and writhed around as it trailed off into sobbing, labored breaths. “You… men are all the same,” she choked, the dark crimson stain of blood swiftly spreading on her chest. She managed to fix them with a hateful stare, even as her breast rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming shallowly and her words a whisper. “All the same, killing me…. only after you’ve… made me powerless.” She took a few more wet, wracking breaths before going suddenly limp and still, her wide eyes reflecting the moon and making Dean feel unsettlingly like she was still looking at him.

Cas wordlessly pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead and he felt himself healed all over at once, and Sam, who could see Dyani now if his fixed gaze was any indication, joined them to look down at the blood-stained, pitiful body of the once-beautiful girl. Her hair laid in disarray, a dark halo around her delicate-featured face; the moonlight making the blood that was pooling on the ground shine; the silvery light throwing the scene into uncomfortable, grotesque relief.

The three of them exchanged glances, wondering if this was really a kill they should celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading over this part makes me really want to write another story. Any ideas?...
> 
> One more chapter to go! I hope you'll stick around til the end. Thank you so much to all of you--I've loved hearing your comments! The last chapter will probably be up on Friday. Until then, tell me what you think! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which honesty is the best policy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, here we are. The final chapter.
> 
> First of all, thank you so much to all of you who are reading this, and an extra-special thank-you to those of you who have been here from the beginning of the story. It means so much to me, to have people enjoy this thing I made. Thanks again to blueMinuet, without whom this story would never have begun, and to ittybittytoostormy, without whom I may not have felt compelled to finish it. I am so lucky to have you both encouraging my madness. Thanks also to my two favorite non-Destiel-shippers who supported this story anyway: My boyfriend and my mother. You guys are the tops. 
> 
> Second of all, I do have another Destiel fic waiting in the wings (no pun inte--oh who am I kidding the pun is totally intended) to be written, so I hope to see you all there for that one when it's up too, hopefully. ;)

Castiel thought to himself the next morning that he was really going to kind of miss this place when they left later today. He’d miss the quiet atmosphere and that too-bright motel room and this bar. And Kelsey. Mostly Kelsey. She had become like an old friend to him, her soul bright and familiar and startlingly clear when most humans’ were dull and only visible if you looked closely. Though he was far older and more powerful than she was, she didn’t seem intimidated by him. Instead, she treated him as an equal, which was odd. What was even odder was the fact that Castiel didn’t really mind it.

He figured he owed it to her to let her know how the case had panned out after everything he’d been telling her, so he was just finishing the story. He had a glass, but it was filled with water. He didn’t feel like drinking today. Especially not before 2 PM.

“So it sounds like Dean doesn’t always see things for what they are,” she mused, sitting down on her stool and holding onto it with both hands. There weren’t many patrons yet, as it was only 1 in the afternoon, so she could afford to rest her feet for a moment. She smiled, flashing those not-quite-perfect, but still attractive, teeth. “But it also sounds like you help him a lot with that.”

“I suppose I do sometimes,” said Castiel in response, and she rolled her eyes at his noncommittal answer.

“So,” sighed Kelsey, brushing a strand of dark-chocolate hair behind her ear. She was wearing small pearl studs for earrings, and they looked good against her brown locks. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” He looked confused for a moment, so she clarified: “I mean I guess your secret’s out.”

“My secret?”

“Yes!” she said, widening her hazel eyes at him. “Didn’t you say the Deer Woman shouted something about you loving Dean?”

“Oh,” said Castiel, a spark of uncertainty fluttering somewhere inside him. “I, uh, I believe that was the case, yes.”

“So?” Kelsey said, leaning in eagerly. The angel sighed, somehow having known she would focus on that part, considering her avid interest in his relationship with Dean. “How’d he take it?” Her eyes were sparkling hopefully, and Castiel dropped his own to stare at his hands.

“Uh,” he said, because even Angels of the Lord got bashful sometimes, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” she echoed, scrunching up her face.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I…may have left the motel room before the Winchesters woke up this morning.”

She looked at him like he was a child who had broken his mother’s favorite vase. Or at least, how a mother on television had looked when the same thing had happened. “Cas…” she started.

He sighed again. “I’m fairly certain he can’t return my feelings, and in any case he didn’t say anything about it last night, so I didn’t want to bring it up.”

“You mean you ran away,” she amended flatly, crossing her arms. When the angel merely took a sheepish sip of water, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the bar. “Castiel. Why do you think Dean could see the Deer Woman, if only people who are being dishonest about love can see her?”

Castiel blinked. He hadn’t thought of any specific reason; just that Dean tended to be dishonest in other areas, so naturally love was no exception. “I’m not sure. Possibly because he was hiding his relations with women from Sam and myself while on the case?” Kelsey looked unimpressed, and Castiel couldn’t blame her: even _he_ didn’t really believe that of Dean.

“I think it’s because he couldn’t get over the fact that he had feelings for you,” she stated boldly, with a proud lift of her chin.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, surprised.

“Well, for one thing, Dean gets really talkative when he’s drunk,” she said in an undertone. The angel opened his mouth to ask her what she meant, but she cut him off with one raised hand. “Don’t ask me what he said; it’s a secret.”

“Dean talked about his feelings…with _you?_ ” Castiel asked incredulously. It wasn’t that she was not worthy of Dean’s secrets; it was just that he couldn’t believe Dean had been open with _anyone_ that wasn’t Castiel himself or Sam.

Her eyes sparkled joyfully, and she leaned forward to whisper, “Let’s just say that people are pretty open about matters of the heart with me, and not just when they’re smashed.” She winked at him as if she’d just told him a meaningful secret, and he stared at her, tilting his head. There was something there, something he wasn’t getting. Her smile, her soul, her affection, they were all so…familiar. That was the word he kept coming back to. Familiar. Almost nostalgic. She was right, too. People _were_ open with her on matters of the heart—hadn’t he been, too? Even before he had even felt the light of her soul, he had felt that she could be trusted with his own love problems. She had been a willing confidante and an eager matchmaker, even.

 _Wait._ His eyes widened. _Matchmaker._ It couldn’t be that—

She watched the realization flash across his face with amusement, and sat back, satisfied. “Finally recognize me, brother?” she said softly, her tone suddenly shy.

“You were a cherub once,” he blurted suddenly. “A Cupid.” It seemed completely obvious, in retrospect. No wonder her soul had shined so brightly, been easier to read than all the others, had such a connection with his own Grace (stolen Grace) that she was able to reach out and touch it without combusting.

Her smile was wide, eyes dancing with mirth. “You gave me back more than just a longer life when your Grace touched me,” she revealed.

“What was your name?” he breathed, desperate to know everything all of a sudden.

“I was called Kelial,” Kelsey told him, scooting her stool forward so they could speak more quietly without attracting the attention of the (probably around five) patrons in the bar, “before I ripped out my Grace and Fell to be reborn as a human.”

“You Fell of your own choice?” Castiel asked, fascinated. He had of course encountered such cases before—Anael being the first to come to mind—but he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Kelsey— _Kelsey!_ —had been his sister, once. “Why?”

She sighed and fidgeted with her pink sparkly nails. “I was so tired of inciting love in other people, Castiel,” she admitted. “I was jealous of humanity. I wanted what they had. And I was angry that I couldn’t feel it.” She looked up at him and smiled wryly. “Envy _and_ Wrath. Not exactly model angel behavior.” She ran a hand through her thick hair, combing it over one shoulder. “It was dangerous. I was afraid.” She shrugged. “So I decided to be the agent of my own fate.”

He felt a mixture of horror that she’d ripped out her own Grace and a fierce sort of pride in her for doing something so brave, albeit reckless. This human was more like him than most of his brothers and sisters were. “So you didn’t remember until my Grace touched you?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding and looking thoughtful. “It was like when you healed my brain, you even brought back parts I wasn’t _supposed_ to have anymore.” She laughed. “It was kind of startling at first, but at the same time, it was like just remembering a family reunion that was so disastrous you decided to forget it, you know?” Castiel didn’t. “It felt like the memories had always been there; I just never really wanted to look for them.”

“Do you ever regret it?” the angel asked her next, his tone serious. “Do you regret becoming human?”

“Not in the slightest,” she said immediately, without hesitation.

“But…your angelic powers,” said Castiel, incredulous. “Don’t you miss them?”

“Powers?” Kelsey said dismissively. “Who needs powers? I seem to have done pretty well without them. Not that any power would be needed in this situation anyway,” she said with a wink, and before Castiel could ask her what she meant, she nodded over the angel’s shoulder. “You two really were an exercise in Free Will. No Cupids necessary.”

And as Castiel whirled around on his stool, he saw Dean approaching the bar, looking somewhat reluctant. The angel felt a brief but powerful urge to fly away, but of course, he couldn’t. And, he thought to himself, perhaps he also _shouldn’t_.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, not meeting his eyes. So he was still being avoidant, Castiel thought. Or maybe he was just nervous or distracted. “You ready to go? Sam’s getting some food for the road, but I thought we could pack everything up.”

“Okay, Dean,” he responded, and rose from his barstool.

“Hey, you have my number, so keep in touch, all right?” Kelsey said, hitting Castiel on the arm playfully.

“Of course,” he assured her.

She glanced from Dean to Castiel. “You two take care,” she said, winking at the angel.

“Will do,” Dean said, and as they made their way to the door, he added, somewhat suspiciously, “You have her number?”

“Yes,” answered Castiel without the slightest bit of guilt. “She has become…” He looked over his shoulder to see her waving at him one last time. “…Like a sister to me,” he finished, as they stepped out into the sunlight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was quiet as they threw their belongings (well, mostly Dean and Sam’s belongings, as Castiel had very few) into their bags and cleaned up all the research materials they’d been too exhausted to clear away last night. Castiel was just starting to wonder, as he managed to zip up the last bag (Sam’s duffel), if anything had changed, when Dean cleared his throat. The angel stood up straight and gave the hunter his attention.

“Listen, Cas,” Dean said, his voice halting. “I think I understand a lot of things I was too stupid to understand before, or too stubborn.” He swallowed, and then continued speaking, his voice a little steadier. “And for once, I’m not gonna let things go, because that always ends up sucking for everyone. So here’s me, talking about it.”

Cas was a bit frightened to hear him continue, but listened anyway.

Dean shuffled uncomfortably in his torn jeans and ran a hand through his light-brown hair. “Okay, uh, I know I’m not the most considerate or thoughtful person, and I can’t say stuff as well as nerds like Sam can, but that, uh, that encounter with the Deer Lady really made me think. And so did those girls in the bar. And when Kelsey laid one on me, that made me think too.”

Castiel lowered his head and stared at the ground, suddenly remembering the Deer Woman’s words, frantically demanding to know why Castiel still loved Dean even when he’d broken his heart. He didn’t want to hear what Dean was going to say next, but he supposed he had been dancing around it long enough. Dean had finally seen his hooves, metaphorically, but Castiel wasn’t going to run away this time, also metaphorically. “It’s okay, Dean,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m—I’m sorry that I—”

He was cut off suddenly. “Dammit Cas, would you stop apologizing for once and let me get this out?” Castiel fell silent, prompting him to continue. Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair again, letting out a wry chuckle. “I couldn’t enjoy it,” he said. “Any of it. Any of _them._ Not really. I haven’t been able to for a long time,” he said, looking at a spot slightly to Castiel’s right, since looking straight at him was apparently too much. When Castiel merely gave him a confused look, he groaned slightly in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he asked, which was an extremely odd question and one which Castiel did not answer. Dean took a deep breath and then spoke resolutely:

“I couldn’t enjoy kissing them, or hitting on them, or…or _being_ with them,” he said, “because they weren’t you.”

A long silence stretched out between them.

“What?” said Castiel, sounding nonplussed for once.

“I _said,_ ” hissed Dean, seeming to decide he had nothing to lose, “I only want to be with you. And…the other stuff. With you.”

It was probably the most ineloquent confession the world had yet known, but it was still the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever heard.

“Dean,” he breathed, hardly daring to believe it. “Are you saying that you—”

“Just,” Dean cut him off, walking closer to him with slow, measured steps. “Don’t…say anything.” When the distance was closed between them, he stood within inches of Castiel, intent green eyes meeting awestruck blue. The angel found himself holding his breath, though he did not need to breathe.

“Look, man,” Dean gritted out after a moment, “are you gonna close your eyes or what? I can’t do this with you staring at me like that.”

Castiel’s eyes fell closed without even really thinking about it, and he felt Dean lay his warm hands on his arms and pull him towards him, hesitantly, slowly, like he was afraid the angel would fly away if he held him too close. Castiel did not fly away, and in fact gripped the fabric of Dean’s third layer of shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping him on the earth. Heck, he probably was. Had been.

Time stopped when Dean’s mouth met his. It was shaky and brief, a chaste touch of lips, but apparently it was not altogether displeasing, because Dean kissed him again, surer this time. Castiel had not had many kisses in his immortal life, but he felt quite certain that this was the best one so far. He savored the scrub of the other man’s jaw against his own, wondered if his stubble felt odd to Dean, who was no doubt used to soft, smooth cheeks and plush lips; he slid a hand up to cup the side of Dean’s face, stroke his thumb over his cheekbone in a gesture of tenderness so human that he wondered how long he had been capable of it. Dean’s warmth seeped into him, pressed against his chest, hands solid on his arms, and Dean was stroking his thumbs over Castiel’s arms too, back and forth in soothing motions. The sensation, even through the trenchcoat, sent a shiver up his spine, which was odd, because he never got cold. Dean responded to the involuntary reaction by pulling him even closer against him. He wondered how long they had been standing like this, their mouths moving together with as much awkwardness as affection, how long he _could_ have been standing here like this with Dean, how long he could have _had_ this. He wished he’d done this years ago. It all seemed like a tremendous waste, suddenly. The barriers that had been standing between them all this time seemed feeble and ridiculous now. Heaven? His vessel’s gender? The end of the world? Nothing could keep him from this forever, nothing could have prevented them from ending up like this, because they’d _chosen_ each other.

“Uhhh,” a voice sounded from the doorway, and Dean sprung apart from Castiel so quickly it would appear he had been burned. Sam, holding a pair of fast food bags, was looking from his brother to the angel with the kind of smug, eyebrows-raised expression that just screamed _Finally!_

“Hey Sam,” squeaked Dean, his voice coming out an octave higher than usual, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at Castiel, which the angel thought was a bit rude really, considering the kinds of things Dean had said not too long ago. “I was just, uh, me and Cas were just, just—”

“—Making out, yeah, I know, I have eyes, Dean,” said Sam briskly. “I’m just glad that’s _all_ you were doing, what with the way you two have been looking at each other the past five years. Are you guys gonna help load up the car or what?”

Seeming to decide there was no way to save face after that statement, Dean merely cleared his throat, pink in the face. The color looked good on him. His hunter grabbed the largest bag and carried it out of the room one-handed in an apparent attempt to look as manly as possible.

Sam shook his head and shouldered his duffle and laptop bag. He fixed Castiel with a fond look. “I’m happy for you two,” he told him sincerely. “And I know you’ll keep each other happy. Just, y’know, if I’m ever gone for a while and you want some time _alone_ , remember to put a sock on the door for when I get back.” He raised his eyebrows at the angel in a teasing expression, his mouth quirked on one side.

Castiel was feeling a bit pink in the face now too, unusually. “I…do not think that will be an issue,” he croaked. “Not for some time, at least,” he added in a mutter, turning around to lift the last bag and avoiding Sam’s eyes.

He saw Sam shrug out of the corner of his eye, making a face that clearly said _Yeah, right, if you say so._ Castiel followed him out and loaded his bag into the Impala’s trunk. Dean closed it then, and then brushed off his jeans at the thighs, more for want of having something to do with his hands than an actual need to clean the worn denim. “Right,” he said, “That’s it. We ready to go?”

“Yes,” said Sam. “Wait, no,” he decided a moment later. “I’m gonna use the bathroom one more time.” He sprinted back into the motel, his long legs covering the distance in seconds.

“Your disproportionately small bladder will lead us to ruin, Sam!” Dean called after him teasingly. When they were alone, he glanced over at Castiel, and then the ground, shuffling a bit nervously. “Uh, Cas,” he said, “I’m not gonna lie, that was pretty…um, y’know, good, for a first… _thing,_ ” he said, apparently still unable to say out loud that he had kissed another guy. Or angel. The distinction was really quite irrelevant. “But we should probably keep it on the DL in front of Sammy, just for, uh…” He flushed a little. “Future. _Things._ ” Castiel suppressed a smile. It was almost amusing to see Dean trip over his words like this.

“I agree we should not be demonstrably affectionate in public or around Sam,” he said. His expression smoothed out into one of seriousness. He was not sure how Dean would take what he was about to say next, but felt compelled to say it anyway. “But just so you know, that was actually not our first kiss.”

Dean looked flabbergasted. “Okay, I’ll bite,” he said after a moment of confused silence. “What _was,_ then?”

“The first night we were in town on this case,” Castiel said, and when Dean just looked more baffled, he explained further: “I was temporarily female.”

“You _what?_ ” said Dean, mouth hanging half-open.

“Kelsey the bartender had a brain aneurysm which would have been fatal,” the angel continued. “I offered to heal it, and in exchange she allowed me the use of her body as a vessel briefly so I could…kiss you.” He paused, looking down at his shoes. “It was a selfish thing to do, and dishonest…not to mention cowardly…so I felt I should tell you now, since we are to be more open with one another.” He swallowed. He wondered if he was ruining everything by admitting to having done something so foolish.

“So what you’re telling me is,” Dean said, taking a step towards him, “You took Kelsey the Bartender for a spin, mojo’d her brain thing away, laid one on me, and then _didn’t tell me about any of it?_ ” When Dean put it that way, it sounded even more foolish. “Why would you do something like that?”

Castiel chanced a look up at Dean. Thankfully, his expression was surprised rather than angry. “I was sure you were incapable of returning my feelings,” the angel mumbled lamely. “Because you have always perceived me as male.”

Dean sighed, and bit his lip, looking around as if it was really very embarrassing having to have to talk about this. “Look, I know I’m messed up on that front, or…not completely honest,” he said very quietly. Castiel wasn’t sure what “that front” referred to, but somehow perceived that Dean was admitting that Castiel’s vessel’s gender was not of import and that doing so was difficult for him, so he didn’t question further. “But the fact that you’d hide something like that from me because you thought I’d push you away for it?” he continued, and the hurt in his voice was evident. “I thought you trusted me more than that.” His green eyes were shadowed over by his furrowed brow.

“I do,” Castiel assured him. “I do, Dean; I do trust you. I was just…” he looked around uncertainly. “Afraid,” he decided, looking at Dean again, “to hear how you would respond. I didn’t want to give you any more to worry about, not if I could prevent it.”

Dean’s expression was 20% frustration, 20% wonder, and 60% affection. Or maybe 100% affection. Castiel was not sure that percentages mattered in this context. “Even without…” he gestured between the two of them vaguely, “…all of this stuff… You and me—and Sam—we’re friends, Cas. Family, even. We share our problems, no matter how gigantic or stupid or embarrassing they may be.”

“I realize that now,” the angel told him. Then, in a slightly teasing tone, he added, “If I ever feel the need to kiss you from now on, I’ll let you know in-person.”

“As long as by ‘in-person’ you don’t mean ‘in-another-person’, fine by me,” Dean said, smiling in a way that made his eyes glint. It was such a natural smile, the worry lines in his face smoothing out and his eyes crinkling around the edges. The angel felt a flutter in his chest. How bizarre.

“I’m back,” Sam announced, still drying his hands slightly on his jeans. He approached the Impala’s right back door. “I’m feeling generous today. Dean’s new boyfriend gets shotgun,” he said brightly, folding his large frame into the back seat. Castiel looked at Dean for approval. Dean gave a little shrug and a half-smile.

Maybe Castiel was a lousy angel. Maybe he had made horrible mistakes, done things he couldn’t take back, fallen in every way imaginable. But, he thought as he clambered into the passenger-side front seat, as long as he got to keep all this, got to keep Sam and Dean and this old car and this frustrating, monotonous, violent, wonderful, _beautiful_ life…

As long as Dean Winchester needed him and (perhaps?) loved him…

He didn’t really care _what_ anyone else thought of him anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was worth waiting for. You are all so incredible and I don't want to disappoint! 
> 
> How many of you saw it coming with Kelsey? I am hoping that the hints I was dropping all along were enough to make you think there was something special about her, but that it was still somewhat of a surprise at the end there. I did not make up the name Kelial, by the way: [Check it out!](http://www.angels365.com/angelinfo.asp?ID=183)
> 
> Anyway, not to get too sappy or rambly, but I hope this left you all feeling fluffy and happy inside, because you all deserve to feel fluffy and happy inside. Thanks again, everyone, and I look forward to hearing from you again when I write more. xo


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